Bugs Bite

CHAPTER THIRTEEN: A Funeral

'Missus?'

She opened the door. She saw.
Antra then proceeded to drop the plate in her hands, which shattered into a fructillion pieces, but that did not bother her. Why would it, anymore?

'Sire,' she accosted the young master. 'What . . .'

But of course she couldn't complete the sentence. Her shock far outweighed her doubts.

Missus Bibi was on her dearest recliner - which often in life she would relegate to Antra as her "favorite entity on the planet" - her head bobbed, and young master Avish was sniveling on her feet, holding them tightly like some holy artefact.

It was obvious, on even the fickle of a look, that her Missus was no more.

'Sire . . .'

_____________________________________

No suckers were on her skin. No unnatural pallid tone to her skin. No oddity in her eyes. No decomposed skin. And there had been no lute either.

Except for Avish, there had been all of these things, and so the anomaly remained.

But Grandma had died of a simple (simple? are these things liable to be called simple?) cardiac arrest, and so this fact remained as well. Anyone can die anytime. No one is spared.

The latter was concrete, so the reality it was.

His Grandma had not said those words to him.

(he will always be there for you)

Yet she had.

She had.

_____________________________________

Always in life, Bibi had wanted for her dead body to be buried, not cremated. Buried in a beautiful place, with fountains and flowers and grass, that she had booked for her dead self.

So that was how it was going to be.

_*_

'My husband was in the army. Bibi used to tease him because of his mustache. She knew he hated it when she did that. But she always did it in such a way that it never hurt. We knew Bibi loved us. She loved every soul. She was incapable of hate or apathy. May she rest . . . may she rest in peace.'

Aruddha broke off in sobs. She was one of the few who were close to Bibi.

'Whayne aa-ee came to zee city,' Antra began, tearful, 'aa-ee had no 'un. She gave me mah job. New life. She nevah treat me like servant. She treat me like hoo-man. I miss yah, Missus.'

Shweta patted the poor girl's back, while mourning herself. She coughed, her eyes red and puffy from ceaseless crying.

She supposed she must say something, too. 'She is - was - a great mother.' Glancing at her son, who stood beside her, but looked to be afar in another world altogether: 'Better than I'll ever be.'

_____________________________________

'Deary?'

'Huh?' Avish was jerked into the here and now.

'Do you know that man, honey?'

'What man?'

'Him.'

She pointed. A tall, black figure, about two-hundred feet away from them. Standing under a tree bearing luminous white flowers that was only a few inches taller than himself.

'Yes,' Avish said, a mixture of exhalation and terror filling his heart. 'Yes, I do. Stay here, Mom.'

But as Avish strode toward the man, the latter slowly started retreating behind the tree.

'Hey!' Avish called. He broke into a run now. 'Hey! Stop!'

The figure had disappeared behind the tree.

'You can't turn your back on me every time!'

Avish reached the tree - panting hard and fast (sometimes, it still hurt where Dad had put the shank in him, like right now) - which he now noticed was a dogwood kind. But the man wasn't there. He looked around, everywhere he could, but no. Bhoo was gone.

All he had left behind, was that stupid hat, lying with the dogwood's exposed roots.

Avish stood in front of the damned thing, contemplating. What was he going to do with a hat? A hat which appeared and disappeared at will? Real or not when it wanted to be, just like Bhoo.

So Avish instead stomped on the hat. Again. And again. And again. Until it was but a crunched black disc. He threw it away like a frisbee.

'Fuck you!' he yelled after the hat, which floated on and on, away and away, in the strapping wind.

Out of sight, likely not to be seen again in the scope of this story.

____________________________________

Avish didn't know what to make of the whole deal.

His last memory of his grandma was a horrid one. Only he wasn't sure if it was even real. Or another nightmare.
He was sad, to be sure. Aggrieved, even, at life in general for being so cruel. For taking away grandma, their one pole of support in this time, the one who had so kindly given them a house to live in, a life to work for.
What he didn't know what to make of, was whether this sadness was resolute after all.

Because in the end, he supposed, he had known this was coming. He had known exactly how this was going to unfold. And, if he was being honest to self, he had even known when.

'I miss her,' he would say to Mom often in days to come.

Every time she'd reply with the same recycled tears welling behind her eyes, tears she'd never let leave: 'Me too, honey. Me too.'

______________________________________
Roy and Deep and Divyam and Radha. All hugged him collectively. Solemnly. Probably for the last time.

It lasted long. Long enough for manly tears to crawl out of his eyes.

All of them gave him the "aside" talk. Essentially the same bit of pep, times four. His Grandma dying lent extra weight to it all. He was going to be living in her house. In the countryside. Away from his party. Would probably never want to see them again, lest his pain increase.

They met up again for this farewell in that same Chinese restaurant. Avish glanced endless times at the wooden counter, but Bhoo wasn't there.
He did mistake a particular man dressed in a black waistcoat and white shirt as Bhoo and tapped his shoulder from behind. 'Well, fuck you,' Avish said to the poor guy, who looked back at him with a "are you okay or what, mate" look. 'Sorry,' Avish apologized. 'Thought you were someone else.'

Radha noticed. She always did.

Even Raghu - the former douche head of the Boogies squad - who just happened to be in the restaurant at the time, waved him a sincere goodbye.

'You rock, champ,' Raghu said to Avish, which he basically took as "sorry for everything I ever did to you, dude". 'Have a good life.'

So Raghu turned out not being such a bad person after all? Maybe. Maybe not.

Maybe people can change, Avish thought. For better or for worse.

Not some people, though.

(Dad Dad Dad he was a fucking monster unchangeable)

Some people are of another breed altogether.

_*_
Radha embraced him again later, separately, individually, personally.

'Avish, there's something I need you to know. I was never able to say anything. We'll maybe never even meet again . . . so you should know . . . I . . . '

'I know,' Avish said, looking deep into her doe-eyes. And he embraced her back.

It was nice. Painful, but nice.