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To Run Home Again...
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To Run Home Again... |
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MinSW Member
since 2009-06-14
Posts 53Sri Lanka |
Writer's Note : "Mahaththaya" means "Sir" in sinhala. Often used as a form of respect. He stared up at the white-washed ceiling. He could not remember for how long he has been in the hospital now. All he knew was that after the blast his whole troop had been hospitalized. But only he and a couple more had the fortune of being alive. He knew that the others were already discharged. The final soldier had been taken home on the shoulder of a sobbing brother. And yet, he was grinning. "See you mate." He had called. “Or, rather, I won't see you." He had started laughing uncontrollably, and was hastened out of the ward by a muttering nurse. Only later did he discover that this particular "mate", was blinded for life. He felt rather sorry. That man had a strong passion for reading, which seems unlikely that he would ever be able to do now. The only problem was that he had no idea how seriously he was injured. He could not get up. Or rather, the hawk-eyed attendant will not let him get up. Whenever he tried, the attendant would rush over, shouting, "What do you think you are doing, mahatthaya? Keep still, or I will call the doctor, won't I?” Tall and rather handsome, he was not the type one would expect to see as a foot soldier. He was the sort of person you would see on television advertisement, telling the audience what a thrill it is to be a part of the battle. In fact, he had been featured in one. "I don't exactly feel 'thrilled' now." He said to himself. "Mahatthaya, it's time for you medication, isn't it?” The annoying attendant was at his bedside. As he took the half-dozen pills, the attendant went on talking. "There is good news, isn't there? The doctor says you will be fit to go home in several days, doesn't he?" He almost choked on the pills. "What? Are you sure?" He asked. "Of course!" The attendant gave him a sour look, as if to show how insulting it felt to be doubted. "I know everything that happens 'round here, don't I?" The attendant did not bother to keep the note of dignity out of his voce. "Well," he replied, "in that case, thank you very much for the news." But he wasn't sure whether the attendant heard it or not, for he was already half way to the door, to tell off an old lady for coming into the ward when the visiting time was over. He did not care. He felt over the moon. He was going to go home! He missed his family very much but more than anything, he missed his little daughter. Last time he saw her, she just turned two. Talking non-stop, half of the words which nobody but she herself understood, she was the soul of the home. He could picture her right now, talking with the squirrels, running after the dog, yelling "Naughty bawwa! Naughty bawwa!” and waving a stick. Forgetting where he was, he laughed out loud. That girl had some character. He knew. Somehow, she had managed to be the pet of her very strict grandmother, her happy-go-lucky grandfather and of the whole neighborhood. She dared to question her grandmother about superstitions in a way that at the age of 27, he himself did not dare. Somehow, these childish inquiries rather than making the old lady angry, made her more humane. At the age of two, she had a way with people, which-he felt sure- would lead her to a bright future. She would be about five years old now. He had repeatedly applied for leave in order to go home. But they were repeatedly rejected. "Ha, now see if you can stop me from going home to my baby" He said menacingly to nobody in particular. From under his pillow, he took out a crumpled picture of a little girl who had apparently inherited her father's looks. He smoothed the lines the best he could. "Thatthi is coming home, baby." he said to the picture quietly. And laid a kiss upon it. Holding it close to his heart, he fell in to a deep sleep. A sleep full of dreams. He saw his daughter running forward to meet him, as he reached the gate. He took her in his arms and swung her round. Her joyous yells echoed around the neighborhood. His wife was looking at the two of them, teary eyed. He saw them racing down to the river; he saw them plunging into the deep waters; he saw himself teaching her to swim; he saw them stretched on the sandy bank, looking heavenwards. He saw himself going to school with her on her first day; he could hear her proudly telling her friends about her "thatthi", and about all sorts of adventures, embroidering the stories here and there. He saw the three of them walking hand in hand on beach, looking at the sunset. He smiled in his sleep. He was so happy and contended that he did not hear the doctors approach him. "We are thinking of sending him home day after tomorrow. We have done all we can" Said the younger of the two. "Yes, we should have as many beds vacant as possible. Under the present situation…."The older doctor left his sentence hanging. "And, sir, I have been meaning to ask you," said the younger.”This patient has no idea of his situation. I have been wondering how to break it to him…." He trailed off hopefully. "What? Do you mean to tell me that this soldier has no idea that he has lost both his legs? |
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| © Copyright 2009 Minoli SW - All Rights Reserved | |||
Mysteria 
since 2001-03-07
Posts 18328British Columbia, Canada |
Oh how sad but all too often this must be happening don't you think? Wonderfully written, you held me to the "bitter" ending. Carpe' Diem, |
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MinSW Member
since 2009-06-14
Posts 53Sri Lanka |
dear Mysteria, thank u so much..yes dear..this is quite a common thing now, as an aftermath of war.. love, Min |
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Alison
since 2008-01-27
Posts 9318Lumpy oatmeal makes me crazy! |
I have a lump in my throat. This is beautiful and so visual - and so sad. Thank you. Alison |
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brneyedgrly Senior Member
since 2009-06-08
Posts 1125nowhere and everywhere |
~oh, dearest min... now i understand what you were talking about...this is very sad indeed. you did a beautiful job with your writing... ~hugs~ |
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