Think Tank

I remember the first time I went away from my home to live on my own. I was to stay alone at a hostel in Lucknow, to prepare for the IIT engineering entrance exam. Father was with me on the journey; mother came to the main gate to see me off. I remember she shook hands in a good bye note. I had my mixed feelings with me. The fear of living alone; far away from family was balanced by my great enthusiasm towards better studies and success in exams. Since then, I can’t say how many nights I have cried, remembering my mother and my home. I would be perfectly alright in the day time. But when I went to the bed, some memories of home would float around in my mind and immediately my heart would try to explode. I would give in, in those times; I had got a single bed room for most years. Towels won’t suffice and crying would stop only when I washed my face. Some minutes later; another round of emotional explosion would occur and I would be all tears; helpless once again. Hence it was not surprising that the night before the final paper of the final semester of my engineering, I was crying like anything in my bed. I didn’t tell all this to my mother. I didn’t need to.   

The reason I recall all this is that today my wife has gone to another city for some days. I was not well, so I couldn’t accompany her. I went with her to the railway station to see her off. When I came back; just some moments before I was to open the main door, something started to build up inside. The home was empty. Empty without her. Suddenly the emotion reached to explosive levels and I cried. I cried like a kid. The table with an apple on it; the boxes with biscuits and nice things she kept for me; her clothes; the kitchen; the utensils; the carry-bags; the Complan bottle, the laptop computer, the curtains, the almirah, the TV, the clock… it seemed each and every article reminded me of her. How could everything be at its place while she was not at her’s? After shedding tears in several rounds, I felt like taking rest. I wondered if wife is who takes the position of mother, in later years? The answer was quick to come. I remembered that in between when I was crying, I was also saying “Ma…”. The realization was shocking, though it should not have been so. While the pain was definitely of missing my wife; during the painful hours I would also remember my mother – and this was natural. I am sure it doesn’t lower the importance of my wife, but it tells how difficult it is to replace or change the pivot of one’s emotional world…  

So Rahul cries… And I am sure that he cries for those who are worth it…  

- Rahul