LPG

A lonely clock slowly ticked away the hours inside that white walled room of St. Xavier’s Hospital. A man lay on the bed, staring straight up at the ceiling. Every now and then he got up suddenly and looked at a photo on the wall, the photo of Saraswati . And heaving a sigh, he would lie down again. He still remembered vividly that day, that cursed day.  

“Wake up, Abhi” said Saraswati, softly as she lightly patted him on his chest.

Nine year old Abhijay, Abhi for short, opened his bleary eyes and gazed up into his mother’s eyes for a second before embracing her in a bear hug.

“Time for school” whispered his mother softly into his ears.

A hefty half an hour later, Abhi and his seven year old sister Priya were ready, in their uniforms. Everyone said that Priya looked exactly like her father, Arun , what with her sharp nose and thick glasses exactly matching his features. On the other hand, Abhi looked more like his mother with a round shining face and sparkling eyes.

Arun woke up at seven and went t o the living room. Abhi and Priya were sitting there, already dressed up for school.

“Where is your mother?” he asked to the children in an almost joking manner. Arun always joked, Saraswati usually said, he was never serious.

“In the kitchen, there” replied Priya very seriously, standing up and pointing at the kitchen, but very happy internally at knowing that her father was depending on her word, even if only for such a trivial matter.

Arun entered the kitchen. Priya was fiddling with the tube connecting the LPG cylinder and stove.

“You really need to get this changed, it is leaking worse than a bottle without a bottom” she said, looking at Arun, with a smile on her face. Saraswati always joked, Arun usually said, she was never serious.

Arun smiled back. “I will” he said, “dear.” The last word was said almost ironically. Both broke out laughing, enjoying a private joke.

By eight, the entire family was ready; Arun in his white shirt and red polka dotted yellow tie, the children in their uniforms and Saraswati in her churidar.

“See you in the evening , Latha aunty” said Priya waving at their neighbor, who was standing outside her house, as Saraswati plucked a flower from the small garden in front of their house and put it into her own hair. She too looked at Latha and smiled. The entire family, except Saraswati, got into their Maruti.

“Shall we go?” asked Arun to nobody in particular as he switched on the ignition. That was when they heard that shrill whistle.

“The pressure cooker, Saraswati “said Latha loudly, over the noise of the car, to Saraswati.

“Oh no!” exclaimed Saraswati as she scrambled to the door, “I didn’t put off the stove.” She said dashing off into the house.

The children watched on as Saraswati entered the kitchen and reached for the stove…

Priya entered the room of the hospital. 29 years old, married. The man barely noticed her. There were tears streaming down his cheeks.

… and turned it off. Saraswati heaved a sigh of relief. She came out of the house and waved to her family. “See you in the evening” she said as they drove away.

That evening, the cylinder exploded.

Priya looked at Abhi. He had never overcome the shock.  It had been twenty two years. Twenty-two very long years………