It happened a fortnight ago. That day I felt uneasy for unknown reasons. I mentioned to my senior colleague my worry whether I would be able to meet my dad during my planned visit to India in July.
That night, I had unusually kept my mobile away. When the phone bell rang early morning, I struggled to pick it up and got the deadly message from my sister: “Dad is dead.”
Time heals. We have reconciled to the fact that he is no more. He lived a king’s life until 90, thoroughly honest and never was hospitalized. His purpose of life was to live a life of purpose.
Most relatives were around. I asked them what was happening in Chennai and they narrated some incidents:
*A couple bought plastic items at an exhibition and were travelling on a bike with their baby. A bucket fell on the road. The wife dropped the child to pick it up, but the baby crawled and was crushed by a truck.
* My friend’s neighbour, a rich man, had a heart attack. My friend rushed him to hospital and informed his son who was in the US. The son’s reaction: “Is he in the ICU? Show him on the Webcam.”
* A man begging near the beach was identified as a millionaire. “Why are you doing this?” asked a friend. “This is to shame my sons who have ignored me,” came the reply.
Life is strange indeed.