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| Sunday, 13 June 2004 |
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The end of a journey by T.M. Ariyawansa Rodrigo "Damn the old nuisance, now we can live in peace," exclaimed the daughter when her husband pushed the old man out of his house. The helpless old man stumbled and fell on the front lawn. When he heard the jeering laughter of his grandchildren he almost died. Painfully, gathering all his strength, he stood up. Then without a word he walked out of the gate on to the main road. He stood there and turned around and looked back at the house which he laboured many years to build. It was the only home he knew and called his own. It was the house he lived with his wife and raised his only child. It was the house in which his wife lived, laboured and finally died after nearly three decades of married life. It was the house he gave his daughter when she got married. It was his home too. Nothing distracted from his belief that he would live in it to the end of his life.
Thoughts that never bothered him before came to his mind. What was the purpose of his life? To what end had he laboured so hard? Did he achieve anything or fulfilled any purpose? Or was it a journey in a void for no purpose? The sound of traffic on the road nor the sound of pedestrians passing by penetrated his mind. His journey along memory lane was very painful. There was hardly any happy memories. His was a hard and painful life. A daily struggle for existence. The remaining short period left was now beset with greater difficulties. His frail and wornout body shook with dread at the very thought. A pain of despair overtook him. After a little while, as if awakening from a brief slumber, he rubbed his eyes, then slowly put his hands inside his trouser pockets. An old, dirty handkerchief came out of one and the other was empty. He put his hand into his hip pocket. It came out with his Identity Card. He looked at it but could not see it clearly. He felt his shirt pocket for his spectacles. It came out tangled in his fingers broken and twisted. He put all three items into the drain behind him. Then very painfully, holding on to the tree trunk he got up and stood there for sometime. He looked at the passing traffic. The large lorry speeding from the opposite direction attracted his attention. With no thoughts good or bad, no memories happy or sad but, with a courage and determination born of great hardships endured most of his life, he stepped before the oncoming vehicle as it was about to pass him. The screeching brakes and the resulting commotion drew the passers-by, men, women and children to the spot. There were pieces of flesh and bones scattered all over the road. There was nothing to identify a person. Some vomited, some looked away, yet no one moved away as if magnetized by seeing the piece of flesh and bones that was once a fellow human being. Across the road above the gruesome site stretched a colourful banner proclaiming, 'Fathers Day.' |
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He turned around with a heavy heart and resumed his aimless walk. After
a couple of hours he felt tired and sat under a tree beside the road. It
gave him a little shade from the bright sun. He looked up at the cloudless
sky. He saw it as a vast unfathomable void. Then his mind wandered around
his past.
