The last time i wept
It's been a long time since I cried. With this, I'm not talking about the tears that well in your eyes due to simple but unexpected emotions. I not really old, but I had this feeling that my mind is pretty wrinkled. I thought I cannot cry anymore. Lets get to the story.
I had this friend (lets call him K) from home who settled down in the city which I later came to study and now working. After a very long gap, say 5 or 6 years, I met him on the street quite accidentally. K looked terrible. Eyes blood shot and popping out of the socket, skin wrinkled but stretched along his temple. He was only 25 or 26 then. And was a drug addict. Now I'm not taking about a regular doper, which I was, but one who starts his day with marijuana and ends it with brown sugar.
He had a pinion rider who looked equally terrible. We promised to meet the week after that, which, as usual, I couldn't make.
About 10 days after the meeting, my brother called me up and told me K was killed in an accident along with another guy. Despite him being my best friend while he was in my home town, during the passage of the long years, K was no longer part of my day to day life, and vice versa. And also, my brother (who was K's friend once) had a problem, a misunderstanding rather, with K, leading to a lukewarm relationship between we brothers and him. So I was not shattered by the news that he is no more.
But still he was my friend and the best one in the past. So I went to the mortuary along with a friend who also happens to be from my town and also a member of our gang which K led.
We found the mortuary, and went in. The attender, an eerie looking man with long beard and hair, both unruly, unkept and dark and pepper, opened the door of the mortuary and showed us inside. There, on a stretcher, was a body of a youth with no visible marks of injury on him except for a big wound on one of his knees. But as stopped bleeding long ago, even that wound was not as bad as it would seem. We confirmed it was him. But then a suspicion arose in our mind if it was actually him. After checking the corpse for a long time we told the scary man we were not sure.
He opened the compartments of the big body freezer saying that the body belonged to the second guy who was killed in the same accident. There lie a body - we could see only the face - which seemed as if it was squeezed before soul left the poor body. The face resembled the famous painting Scream by Edvard Munch. It was badly damaged; as bad as it can get when you get ran over by a bus - that is how K died.
I came out. The smell of death inside the room was suffocating. I lit a cigarette, and my dad called me after knowing about K's death.
I, who was normal till then (I was even humming some tone in my mind) suddenly started crying. All the emotions which I never realised that I had in me liquidified into a salty-sour water and ran out through my eyes and nose. The intensity of my emotions, which manifested as tears, made me realised how much I liked him.
Like many things in my life, I learnt that only after it was a touch too late..
I had this friend (lets call him K) from home who settled down in the city which I later came to study and now working. After a very long gap, say 5 or 6 years, I met him on the street quite accidentally. K looked terrible. Eyes blood shot and popping out of the socket, skin wrinkled but stretched along his temple. He was only 25 or 26 then. And was a drug addict. Now I'm not taking about a regular doper, which I was, but one who starts his day with marijuana and ends it with brown sugar.
He had a pinion rider who looked equally terrible. We promised to meet the week after that, which, as usual, I couldn't make.
About 10 days after the meeting, my brother called me up and told me K was killed in an accident along with another guy. Despite him being my best friend while he was in my home town, during the passage of the long years, K was no longer part of my day to day life, and vice versa. And also, my brother (who was K's friend once) had a problem, a misunderstanding rather, with K, leading to a lukewarm relationship between we brothers and him. So I was not shattered by the news that he is no more.
But still he was my friend and the best one in the past. So I went to the mortuary along with a friend who also happens to be from my town and also a member of our gang which K led.
We found the mortuary, and went in. The attender, an eerie looking man with long beard and hair, both unruly, unkept and dark and pepper, opened the door of the mortuary and showed us inside. There, on a stretcher, was a body of a youth with no visible marks of injury on him except for a big wound on one of his knees. But as stopped bleeding long ago, even that wound was not as bad as it would seem. We confirmed it was him. But then a suspicion arose in our mind if it was actually him. After checking the corpse for a long time we told the scary man we were not sure.
He opened the compartments of the big body freezer saying that the body belonged to the second guy who was killed in the same accident. There lie a body - we could see only the face - which seemed as if it was squeezed before soul left the poor body. The face resembled the famous painting Scream by Edvard Munch. It was badly damaged; as bad as it can get when you get ran over by a bus - that is how K died.
I came out. The smell of death inside the room was suffocating. I lit a cigarette, and my dad called me after knowing about K's death.
I, who was normal till then (I was even humming some tone in my mind) suddenly started crying. All the emotions which I never realised that I had in me liquidified into a salty-sour water and ran out through my eyes and nose. The intensity of my emotions, which manifested as tears, made me realised how much I liked him.
Like many things in my life, I learnt that only after it was a touch too late..
posted by greyMatter at 10:09 AM
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