© Anushree Painuly 2019 All rights reserved All rights reserved by author. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior permission of the author. Although every precaution has been taken to verify the accuracy of the information contained herein, the author and publisher assume no responsibility for any errors or omissions. No liability is assumed for damages that may result from the use of information contained within. First Published in September 2019 ISBN: 978-93-5347-797-4

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To the one whose words formed the most precious book of all times.

Hare Krishna!

Acknowledgement

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journey can be completed alone, yet a truly memorable journey is one which is walked along with our loved ones. I would like to express my gratitude to the people who made the journey of my first book memorable for me. My very first teachers, my parents who blessed me with words and thoughts which I feel proud to share with the world today. My Husband, Adesh who has always been the pillar of my strength and has always encouraged me. My friend Vishwas, who has kindly lend few lines from his beautiful Punjabi poetry to one of my characters in the book. And a special thanks to life and its prized experiences!

Prologue

“P

apa, is this a very big river?”

“Yes,” Sharan said, without lifting his eyes from the laptop. As usual, he was busy with some important office work. “Even bigger than our school playground?” “There is no comparison between the two, Raag,” Sharan replied, with slight irritation. Raag’s persistent questions were not letting him work. The child was sitting in front of the television set, watching some random show that his mother had been watching till she received a phone call. The show was shot on the banks of river Ganges, in Haridwar. “Can we go there, Papa? I want to see this river.” “Go and play with your mother,” said Sharan, irritated. He picked up the TV remote lying close to him and switched off the TV.

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“Can we go there, Papa? I want to see this river.” Raag’s words echoed in Sharan’s ears as he wept, and with shaking hands immersed his nine-year-old’s ashes in the holy Ganges. “Maa Ganga will give peace to your child’s soul,” said the priest, chanting some mantras and handing Sharan a few petals of yellow marigold. “Now your wife,” he said, pointing towards another earthen pot of ashes. Whatever had remained of his wife and son was now a part of the sacred river. The Ganges indeed was a big river, with a big heart.

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door opens…

The 13-year-old instantly stops fidgeting with his pen and corrects his posture. He is nervous and hoping that his racing heartbeat isn’t audible. “Sharan, we are glad to have a bright student like you in our school,” said the grey-haired man entering the room. He placed his golden-rimmed spectacles next to the nameplate on the desk declaring, ‘PRINCIPAL.’ “Hope you will enjoy your studies here. Now you can go to your classroom. Best of luck!” The man ended his little speech with a made-up smile, which he had perfected to detail with years of usage. From the principal’s office to the classroom, Sharan’s steps were weighed down by just one thought, “How can my parents do this to me?” Sharan had always been the star student of his school, topper in studies, and a champion in co-curricular activities. Everyone in his previous school knew him— teachers, students, peons, even the randomly lying stones on the playground and the damp air of the library corners. He had friends there with whom he had learnt the first alphabets of his life, the ones who were

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his partners in crime; and then, of course, there was a childhood crush. A school is a teenager’s world, and all of a sudden this world had been taken away from Sharan. His friends, his teachers, his love, the scribbled walls of the locker room, the stage where he had won numerous prizes. All of this was gone in an instant because his parents had to move to a new city. “How cruel it is!” cried his tender teenage heart. Sharan stood numb at the door of his new classroom. The teacher was yet to arrive. He peeped inside the classroom. There were paper aeroplanes flying here and there, students were chattering, and total commotion ensued. The sight which would have made him feel at home in his previous school seemed all alien and disturbing here. Sharan gradually walked inside and sank in an empty chair. As he rested the burden of his unending thoughts & heavy head on the table, something inside him hurt, rebelled, and silently screamed, “MY WORLD IS CRUMBLING!”

12 years later… A door opens… The young gentleman stops fidgeting with his pen and rushes towards the notice board. A peon has just walked out of the administrative office door with some papers in his hands. Today, Sharan wasn’t the only one whose heartbeats were filling the air of the university corridor with restlessness; the entire final year batch was his accomplice. The reaction of the students to the peon’s dramatic entry

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was exactly the same as when a magnet is placed in a box of metal pins. While most of the students were praying to get a job, Sharan was praying to get the best one. His father had called him numerous times since morning (quite unlikely for a busy man like him) just to remind Sharan that his name had to be on the top of the list. Being the only child of extremely successful and highly educated parents, Sharan had always understood the gravity of being ‘at the top of the list.’ As he stood there waiting for the placement results, he could feel the sweat running down his brow. The peon made his way to the notice board and pinned down the results. In less than a second, the area was swamped by students, pushing against each other just to get a glimpse of the golden letters of the day. While others scanned the whole list for their names, Sharan knew he just had to eye the top. He moved forward, pushing a few fellow students. He bit his lip in nervousness, his heart was beating fast, and he hoped that his racing heartbeat wasn’t audible to anyone. With his eyes fixed on the list, he had almost lost awareness of the world around him. There were pats of congratulations on his back from his batchmates and friends, but there was just one force he was able to identify with, and it was the ache that was rising inside him. Ache that erupted like a volcano within his body when he saw his name at the second position. The best job, the best company, the best salary, all slipped from his hand by just one position! However, at the moment, this was not what worried Sharan. Right now, he was worried about the phone ringing inside his pocket. He knew who was calling. Sharan’s steps from

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the notice board to the garden bench were weighed down by just one thought, “What am I going to tell Dad?” All his life, no matter how hard he tried, he had always fallen a little lower than his parents’ expectations, and today, he had disappointed them yet again. Sharan sat on the garden bench. He could see students laughing, some in deep discussions, some walking out of the campus with a grave look while others were planning parties to celebrate their new job. Today, the university was an audience to various emotions. A group of his classmates waved at him from a distance, congratulating Sharan on his achievement. He acknowledged them with a fake smile and a wave, as only he knew how badly he had failed. As he rested the burden of his unending thoughts and heavy head on his hands, something inside him hurt, wanted to run to a safe place, and silently scream, “MY WORLD IS CRUMBLING !”

12 years later… A door opens... Sharan wants to stand but his legs seem to have lost all their strength. His eyes are fixed on the doctor who, having just stepped out of the OT, is heading towards him. A part of Sharan wanted to run towards the doctor and barrage him with questions, while another part wanted to hide in a deep dark burrow and close his ears to everything the doctor had to say.The distance between Sharan’s chair and the OT door was merely 2 meters, but the doctor seemed to take an eternity to cover it. Sharan was terribly scared, and with every step

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the doctor took towards him his heartbeat increased. This time, he was least bothered if his heartbeat was even audible to others around. The doctor stood clad in white, like God’s messenger, right in front of Sharan, and soothingly rested his hand on Sharan’s shoulder. He then uttered the world’s most used word in its bitterest form; “Sorry,” he said. Sharp as a double-edged sword, the word ripped Sharan’s life into pieces. Though not given much credit, tears are the body’s most loyal companion; unlike voice or consciousness, they don’t leave when a person is in extreme pain or happiness. Rather, they just find their way out and roll down completely unashamed of their naked existence. Sharan wanted to ask the same question a thousand times to the doctor, just hoping that maybe once he would change his answer. Sharan covered his face in the cup of his palms and sobbed like an innocent child in agony. As he rested the burden of his unending pain and heavy head on his hands, something inside him died, became motionless and silent forever. His world had crumbled.

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t 37, Sharan was a successful investment banker. He had everything one could ask for—a great job, a pretty and caring wife, an adorable son who was the apple of his eye, a lavish house, an impressive bank balance—the list went on. However, until today, he had always been a person who constantly complained about having nothing. Today, as he returned to his empty house after performing the last rites of his wife and son, he realised that he had had everything and now that everything was gone forever. Only if he had valued it while it was still there. We are all like those ungrateful kids who get numerous gifts on Christmas but still long for more and complain about the ones they didn’t get. Not realising the preciousness of the blessings we have until we lose them somewhere down the path of life. Same was the case with Sharan; he had lost his wife and son in a road accident two days back, and he knew that his life would never be the same again. As per the Hindu religion, the human body is formed of the same five elements that form this universe, and when the elements ‘inside’ unite with the elements ‘outside,’ that is when a soul rests in peace. Sharan boarded the

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train to Haridwar to immerse the ashes of his deceased family in the holy Ganges. With his mind completely blank and heart burdened with grief, Sharan sat on the bank of the Ganges after performing the last rites. Unlike all these years when every passing minute meant rushing to some place or achieving some target, today he was in no hurry. He had nowhere to go, no targets to achieve, no fake smiles and selfish handshakes. Today, he had all the time in the world, but for whom? His mind rushed again and again to that dreadful evening thinking why was he not there with them in that car. He could have saved them, or else they all could have died together. He wouldn’t have been left alone to endure this. It is said that tears relieve our pains and prayers heal our wounds, but neither worked for Sharan. In a few hours, the darkness of his heart even took over the sky in the form of a moonless night. The ghat started getting deserted. Sharan checked into a nearby hotel. Three days back, he would have certainly checked the star rating of the hotel prior to booking, but things were different now. All that mattered was four walls and a roof to spend the night inside. All night long, he could hear the rhythm of the waves; it was like a mother singing a lullaby to comfort her heartbroken child. Even before sun was out, Sharan found himself heading for the ghat. He prayed endlessly for his heart to be at ease. Five days passed in a similar manner. Sharan’s spirit was still in pieces and his heart was still aching. Nothing Ghat — Passage or stairs leading to a river