At last I could talk to my Father !!

His face was as fresh as it used to be on any other morning after shave. Only difference it was dry not wet as usually face looks after shaving. The eyes were closed, the lips bore faint smile; as if he was enjoying a dream during his sleep. A close look would reveal; no, it was not freshly shaved countenance; the tiny gray hairs shoot out all over the face; as they look in the evening; long after you shave in the morning. Why the shaving is so important! Well no one ever remembers seeing him unshaved even if when he used to be sick for long time. That was he; my father; lying on the stretcher mounted on a vehicle that carries dead. This was his last journey on wheels. He preferred bicycle and was very fond of paddling up and down to the Railway factory where he worked for more than 35 years. I felt he would have been happy, could I arrange a cycle rickshaw for his last ride. In a city like Kolkata, you know it was difficult to arrange or in that matter it would been very difficult to convince a rikshaw-pullar to carry a dead man.

Most part of his life he spent in that small industrial railway town, Chittaranjan; never he preferred to stay elsewhere. Even after retirement he declined to leave the town as he could stay with one of his son who served there. That he did but fate dragged him to die elsewhere, in Kolkata. May be he considered where he lived, made a living was not place to die. So people remember him as one who lived full life; never died.

I hardly had scope to interact with him on any matter; though always yearned for. Rarely we were together for past so many years! Now as he was dead; lying just by my side all alone, the idea triggered my mind. The vehicle started rolling; the passers by scarcely took notice; I open my mouth with loud voice. Talked to my father, all at a time what I could never talk to him. He listened closing his eyes, with smiling face offering indulgence to me. My father’s last ride was so satisfying to me; at last I could talk to him!