Resurgence

Chapter 1

Then

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His father never came back home.

When Shravan wakes up a week after, his eyes are dry, even though the proof of his silent mourning lays under his head and he feels it on the back of his neck - his pillow cold with treacherous tears. To wipe the remnants of them, he puts his arm across his eyes, when a decade old memory collides with his heart.

"Shravan, ladke rulate nahin hain, lekin ladke ro sakte hain." ( "Shravan, boys don't make others cry, but boys are allowed to cry." ) Whispered Ramnath Malhotra, caressing the nape of his son, urging him to look upwards and not stare at the floor in shame while he tried desperately to reign in his tears and forced a smile on his face, because 'boys don't cry'.

It's only seven days after that Shravan gets to mourn properly, only when he closes his door on everything and everyone that the grief makes a grand appearance and surges with every expelled breath, always reaching higher peaks. Then, all pretense of quiet and strong copping are lost and he sinks down to his knees, crying to his heart's content.

In survival mode, the body leads a war on its own, it doesn't bother about the number of opponents or obstacles blocking its way, the only thing worth stopping for is the finish line. No injury is important enough to end the confrontation between time and itself.

In order to withstand the trauma and grief hammering it down like a hail of bullets, it feeds off the good memories, it clings upon the happiness that could be bought with mere coins, it wears layers and layers of cloth to hide the imperfections, till it all dissolve into thin air.

"I love you, son. Always remember that."

Until there is light, until the moment our armors shine under the scrutiny of prying eyes, we stand tall and survive.
And then, when we are finally isolated in the comfort of our dark rooms, we let go and shatter to pieces.

The few hours of respite he gets are not enough to sustain the exhaustion in his bones. His whole body hangs limp like each limb weights twice as much as it had before and he is left staring at the crack in the ceiling.

How did he never notice that before?

He feels the need to experience the misery and swallow it whole, he feels the need to scream but he doesn't have the strength to whisper, he feels the need to wipe the non-existent tears that he wants to form but can't.

Mustering courage, he gets up from his bed and almost stumbles, but he is quick to get hold of the wall and steadies himself. With a movement of his hand, he opens the window and the morning breeze fills up the room, taking all the space and causing him to wrap an arm around himself, feeling too cold all of a sudden.

Twilight melts away and a majestic sunrise, red orange glow seeps over the horizon as if the light itself was being poured from a molten sun. It's beautiful, but not for him. His mind and heart are still, in the big, blank nothing.

For him, there is no beauty left in the world.

With the exhaustion fading away, his state of mind is now clearer. If his stomach's gurgling is an indication to go by, he is starving and his immediate thought goes to his mother.

So is she.

Determined, he strides towards the kitchen to make something to eat and opens the fridge but to his disappointment, realizes that there were no groceries left to make anything nourishing.