A heart-rending story

The Rhythm of Death

They rushed him to the hospital but they refused to take him to surgery before receiving the advance fees. Their way of explaining their cold inhumane behaviour was 'hospital policy'.The person writhing on the stretcher seemed to lose the energy to fight. He looked pleadingly into his sons eyes and the son looked pleadingly at the hospital staff. They turned their backs on them and attended to other patients who had the money they needed.

The son set out. He didn't know where to go at that hour to get some money, so his first thought was to go back home to get whatever he had and borrow the rest from his neighbor. He ran towards his home, as running was a better option than getting his car out at this time amidst this traffic.

His mind filled with images and words of his father. From his earliest memories, his father was the only one who was there for him. His father never showed him how hard he worked for the things his son got so easily. His mother passed away during childbirth and since then they only had each other. His father, a worker at a factory, wanted his son to be everything he couldn't be himself. He wanted his son to achieve many things and never have to face the hardships he faced. His son however, had different ambitions than what his father had for him. He was pretty talented at singing and playing the guitar, and he wanted to turn that into a career. He wanted to reveal this to his father only when he was sure his father would see the effort he had put into it.

The first time he told his father about his passion for music and showed him his skills in a song he'd been practising for two days straight, his father had laughed at him. Taken the guitar pick from him and thrown it in the trash. “Creativity won't get you anywhere son" he'd told that day. The son, had picked up the pick from the trash, and wiped it clean with the same sleeve he used to wipe his single tear away. He went back into his room and began practising again, this time with more determination. He played at the talent contest to a standing ovation. And among the crowd, his father stood, clapping his hands along with the crowd, accepting defeat. His heart broke at the thought that his son wouldn't be what he wanted, but he wanted his son to achieve something he himself wanted. He couldn't bear the thought of his son resenting him for not letting him go for his dreams.

The son didn't notice the cars that almost hit him or the people that continually yelled at him to get off the road. He walked fast, tears blurring his eyes, finding their way down his cheek and mingling freely with the sweat running down his brow.

The headlights of a car looked like eyes to him now. Eyes that burned brightly with a sort of vengeance. On impact, he flew above the front of the car and over it, finally falling with a heavy thud behind it. The car went ahead for a little while at slow speed and then stopped. A head came out through the open car door, his eyes unlike the headlights reflected guilt and a sense of fear. He looked at the son for a few seconds, contemplating what his next step should be. He looked around and was satisfied when he saw nobody. He moved his head back in and closed the door, waiting only for a few minutes before driving off, slowly gaining momentum.

Their relatives combined the funerals into one so that they could get it over with fast. Some found it very lucky that they died together; they knew it would be impossible to survive without the other. The son died shortly after the father breathed his last. The hospital staff accepted no blame in the death of the father, and they didn't bother to make an excuse for not calling the son immediately after the father’s death. For nobody even knew what exactly had happened that day.

There were sweet words that were spoken and a few tears were shed. The funeral was not exceptionally beautiful or unforgettable; it was a plain and simple end to a plain and simple life. At the end of it, when everyone left, they were alone again, side by side in the graveyard.

- Mufitha Jasmine