It is sorrowful and numb around. I watch with dry and mournful eyes as my grandmother lays still on her deathbed wrapped in an ugly colorless sheet. I examine her corpse with still eyes for any sign even the rise and fall of her chest indicating that she isn't deceased.
But she doesn't show any signs.
My mom is heartbroken beside me mourning the loss of a parent. My head isn't working and I cannot do anything to calm her down. Even my dad sits hopelessly beside her.
She called two days ago:
"Mira..." she was sobbing. "We have brought mom to the hospital. She had a coughing fit. I am so scared."
I came with an emergency booking.
I feel lightheaded as they take her to cremate. Memories of us spending time together flood and my tears don't stop after that.
Dad hands me coffee while I tuck mother to bed.
"Doing well?" He asks me. He knows it too, she was closest to me.
"Good."
"When do your classes start?"
Even his eyes were bloodshot and we were still failing to make a conversation.
"Tomorrow", I lie.
"You plan to return?"
It's eleven in the morning; the room is still dark just like my mood. I can hear the rain outside. My head hurts from excess sleeping. Trying to get up I tumble again. It goes spiral. Round and round again. I take long gulps of water. My legs quiver as I walk.
Why do I feel so drained out? My head doesn't stop throbbing. Resting on a pillow gives me relief.
I splash water on my face in the evening. I'm still in the clothes from the day before yesterday's night; don't feel good enough to change. In the kitchen, I find a half-eaten packet of biscuits. My mouth hurts as I chew. I eat slowly.
The silence is awful. I turn on the television. Flicking through channels I stop at a music channel. I watch the rap battle with hooded eyes.
I'm stinking today. I am still in the same old clothes. My phone keeps on vibrating.
"Hey," I say trying to sound not sleepy at all.
"Have you gotten used to not picking up my calls?" Karthik's voice is stern from the other end.
"I'm sorry. I...I.."
"I'm outside your apartment."
"Wait what?" I jump.
"Would you open please?"
"Just five min."
I dash into the bathroom and under the cold shower and brush my teeth altogether. Drying myself I change into a pair of fresh clothes. I don't look that good. A girl with baggy eyes shrunken face looks none less than the ghost in conjuring.
Drawing the curtains I unlock the door.
"Where have you been since two days, you won't take calls, won't open the doors."
"You came?"
"Yes but...Mira? Are you okay?" He says in horror.
Is it obvious? "I'm...fine." I stammer.
"No, you're not."
My brain fights the fuzzy feeling. My vision is blurring, my eyes are shutting.
"Have you eaten?"
I hear someone talk but my head isn't behaving. It's getting harder to stand. "Damn" I utter before I fall.
YOU ARE READING
The Bucket List
Teen Fiction'Change' is a word, we all are familiar with. Some people like it the other are afraid of it. Mira falls into the latter category. A brilliant student who managed a seat in India's top educational institution high in the Mountains. The college lif...
