Friends Short Story – Death of a Stranger
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The day’s domestic chores were over. It was still outside. Footsteps have died down as the pedestrians preferred to be indoors, for it was one of the coldest nights in June. I drew the shutters down in the kitchen.
“Thank God… The day is over”.
Tiredness, like a heavy steel settles on my body. I turned off the lights. I would say the night prayers and then… how the tired limbs long for a comfortable stretch on the bed, ready to be lulled by sleep. What a luxury sleep is! The telephone rang. I was half way through the prayers… a wave of shudder spread all over my body. An eerie feeling crept into my heart. It was beating faster. “Oh! Timid, foolish, silly heart… why don’t you get used to the telephone ring and keep calm? Can’t you unlearn the past habit of associating a telephone call with a serious and urgent message? Have not telephones become playthings in every household?” Even children ring up to their friends to know if they brushed their teeth in the morning or not.
Thus scolded and checked, my heart came to normal. I sprang up from the bed to attend the phone call. I hoped that it must be a courtesy call or some wrong call.
“Hello! It’s me, who is speaking?” picking up the phone I spoke feebly.
My sister spoke from the other end.
“Jothi, its Nisha!”
Why do I feel bad? I could sense it from the way she spoke…
“It’s not in our hands; sorry… you know ‘Kottan’ is dead. The burial is in the afternoon tomorrow. I thought you should come for the burial. After all he was your childhood playmate.”
My worst fears were proved to be correct.
“How and Why”, I muttered, unable to believe the telephonic conversation. He was junior to me by three years; must be in early forties; oh, poor thing.
“He had the complaint of burning sensation in the chest, first just for two days. His mother advised him to see a doctor. He went to the nearby town, consulted a cardiologist; his ECG was near normal; he was coming home. Before he could reach the bus stand, on the way he collapsed: He had a massive heart attack! And it was all over”… My sister was narrating over the phone. “Don’t worry too much. Try to come for the funeral. Good night”- She hung the phone.
… Death strikes at people unaware, too sudden and frequently these days… I could fell death lurking in the darkness, waiting to strike at me, stretching its icy-arms to envelop me in its sure, unfaltering grip… I shuddered at the grisly thought.
I was sitting on the bed. He was too young to go the way of all flesh. Stung by grief and fear, I prayed that all his sins might be forgiven and his soul might rest in peace. All my yearning for rest and sleep had flown away. Childhood memories began to crowd my mind like honeybees swarming about their hive…
… We used to call Raju, ‘Kottan’. I don’t know why. ‘Kottan’ is a kind of a thin basket woven with Palmyra leaves to pack up jaggery. We were neighbours. We went the same local village panchayat elementary school. I was doing my fifth standard, he was in the third. We were a group- two girls and four boys. But Raju was my particular friend. We used to walk hand in hand to school. He would do anything for me…
I tried to sleep… his vivid, timid, kind, loving, ever-obliging face came alive… and disturbed so much… “Is my playmate dead…Raju, are you dead…?”
… The river side in our village, the tamarind grove, the backyard of our house with a few coconut trees and our street were our favourite haunts. Whenever we went to the river, I used to sit on the top-most step of the bank and take water in a mug and pour on me; I had a mortal fear for running deep water. Raju was a natural swimmer; He used to tease me for taking a ‘crow-bath’ in the river. He would dive, roll, float and swim in the water like a fish. But when it came to climbing a tree, I scored over him. Like a monkey, I was a born tree climber. Raju had to give up his snacks many a time. Snatching away his eatables, I would climb up a tree and eat up all; poor thing… all the time he would be under the tree, gaping at me!
On one occasion, we all climbed over the terrace by means of a ladder. Raju managed to climb up the ladder and joined us in the terrace, I wanted to have some fun. I climbed down the ladder; in no time all others followed suit; before Raju could realize what was happening I removed the ladder. Raju cried in terror. I taunted him, keeping the ladder in place and taking it away the moment he tried to step down! Alas! his leg slipped and he fell down from the terrace and broke his ankle. The next day, with a bandage, he smiled at me as friendly as ever. I felt terribly bad.
Time passed. My sister told me that being a girl I should not hereafter play with boys like Raju. His scarcely-haired face and squeaking voice amused me much. What amused me more was, the innocence with which he asked me earnestly how I could say that I had grown bigger, when I looked the same and of course shorter than him, when I told him so after I attained puberty.
… I left my place for higher studies and stayed out mostly. I did not have much chance to see him after that. I heard that he became a painter, married early and got two children.
… I caught the early bus to my place, in the morning.
“Are you dead, my dear Raju…My particular friend? Is life so short? How am I going to see your face: Vivid, timid, kind, loving and ever-obliging… lifeless?” Tears rolled down my cheeks! “We have to take our turn sooner or later…! I should bring myself to say ‘Good-bye’ forever to my childhood playmate…”
I didn’t know how I hired an auto and went straight to our street. A ‘pandal’ was put up in front of his house. A group of men were sitting on the benches. A giant hand wrung my heart. A sharp pain hit my stomach. I stopped at the entrance trying to control an uncontrollable sob. My brother came from the crowd, patted on my back…
“go and see… this way. It’s …in the hall”
I could see his aged mother sitting listlessly at the head of women mourners. She took a long time before she recognized me.
Ah! h..mm… you are Jothi, Raju’s friend. Have you come after a long time to see him dead! Why did death spare me and take my son…
Like a robot, fearing to face what I did not want to, I inched my way to the bench, on which his body was kept. “Oh, Raju…” A strong sob burst out from me. Somebody drew aside the cloth covering his face. “Oh! Is it Raju…? Oh! No! No! It’s not ‘Kottan’… Not my particular, beloved playmate.”- It was a different person, a man… with thick moustache on a broad, hard and rough face… It was a stranger. Not my Raju… My Raju had a vivid, timid, kind, loving, and ever-obliging face!
I was immensely relieved… strangely I felt peace at heart! “Oh! After all, I have come for the death of a Stranger…”
