Home

 

Short Story: Home

Author: Saran Rai

After attending a grand event, carrying a bundle of joy in my heart, I am returning home late in the evening. Whom should I give this bundle of joy? Whom should I share it with?
It is beginning to rot and wither, trapped within my heart.
A habit of forty-one years pulls me towards home—the habit of rushing back. But now, there is no wife at home to share the joys and sorrows of the day. A solitary life...
In my haste to reach home, my steps falter unexpectedly. Something stirs and swells within me. My late wife’s desire was always: “I want you to remain happy and joyful forever.” Resolving to fulfill that wish, I had set out this morning—dressed neatly in new clothes, making an effort to look cheerful and happy. All day, amidst people, I appeared joyful and content.
But now, I don’t feel like going home. The house, where my wife no longer exists but her memories linger...
My steps and heart falter—where should I go? Wherever I go, there is no place like home.
Yes, perhaps this is the truth: when a life partner is no longer there, does a house cease to be a home?

 


 

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

A part of Saran Rai's poem

  A part of Saran Rai's poem     Man an eternal mystery- And life a riddle, queries endless Is that why to live so sweet? On you live and live The taste,ah,keeps on oozing! ... Life whets hunger Pleasing- ever so soothing! But to taste life Its flavor and all Thousand birth falls too short.    --Translated by Madhukar Suvedi 
Read more

Final Conclusion

Image
  Final Conclusion By Saran Rai There is a Kirati folklore about a quarrelsome, sharp-tongued woman who, unable to find pallbearers for her deceased husband, covered his body with a bamboo basket. Later, mushrooms sprouted from the corpse. Truly, how many pallbearers does one have? Thinking about one's own death reveals the extent of one's popularity, as Dale Carnegie once suggested. But even then, after death... I recall a forgotten death. My wife was in the ICU, caught between life and death. There was also a 77-year-old man in critical condition nearby. The doctors recommended dialysis to save him. But his sons refused. Instead, they put him on a ventilator, where he eventually passed away. Dialysis! Twice a week, four hours each session. If conditions worsen, it could be thrice a week! Taking the patient for dialysis, caring for them, and managing the burden while they lived—it’s all an enormous hassle. Waste of time and money! Dialysis—a borrowed life! As lon...
Read more