As usual the school bus dropped me in front of my house and I ran past the gate. Sitting on the stairs at the entrance I removed my shoes and threw it to one side. I headed towards the door wondering why my Mom failed to open the door that day. I fumed. I need to see Mom’s face as soon as I get down the bus. So she would be waiting for me at the door daily. Today it didn’t happen and I was really pissed off. I didn’t wait to ring the bell or knock the door. I tried to open it. No. T’was locked. We had a small boundary wall and all our relatives lived nearby. Ours is a close-knit family. I jumped over the boundary wall and ran to my grandma.
That was our ancestral home. The pebbled paving beautifully lined with pots of roses and lilies led to the massive Padippura. They were adorned with the auspicious hanging Laxmi lamps. The aura of sanctity would be extremely overwhelming to anyone.
I glided through the opening of the enormous front door and walked all the four sides of the courtyard yelling out. But no one heard me. Finally I thrust opened one of the bedrooms which is supposedly my grandma’s. As soon as I entered she heaved herself out of the bed. Regardless of her condition, I started complaining. About how the door was locked and I was treated after a long day at school, how nobody answered me even after yelling on top of my voice, about how my grandma refused to hear me when I entered the house. I finally broke into tears. She got up and called me by her side. Her eyes were wet and they had turned a shade of red. Her face was so weak, yet she maintained the composure, unwilling to yield to the agonies life had given her. She called me by her name. I noticed her voice was trembling. I could smell a rat. I pulled myself together and asked her what the matter was. From the broken words that came out of her mouth, I gathered my Mom was in the hospital.
I panicked. I didn’t know what was going on. She was too weak to say something more. There was no one in the house. I didn’t give up. I asked her again and again. Finally I got the idea that my Dad had an accident. Tears trickled down my face. I wanted to go and see my dad. But where? There was no one out there and I didn’t know where he was. My Grandma advised me to be patient and they would be back soon. There was nothing I could do to push forward my day. I hoped someone would call me and give me more details. Thoughts started filling my mind.
Will my dad be alright? Will he be safe? What would be my Mom doing? How could we live without our dearest Dad?
After 3 hours I got a call from my uncle saying my Dad is doing perfectly fine and it was a close shave. He could have lost his life, but God was with us. That was exactly what he told me. I ran around the front yard like a butterfly. I didn’t think my heart could be lighter anymore. That was a feeling of ecstasy. For once I thanked God from the bottom of my heart! May be its after this incident my Dad started going to temples. He was not a complete atheist, but he was against idol worship. But, maybe that very moment, he would have called GOD for help and HE had blessed him with his life, in fact blessed all our lives!
Later when my Dad was all fine and discharged from the hospital, I asked him what he was feeling then. He described that “moment” to me. The moment he saw death in front of his eyes.
He was hit by a bus and was thrown to the other side of the road beneath another bus. He was all fine. But he couldn’t get up because the scooter he rode was on top of him. He could see the rear wheels of the bus approaching him (He would have prayed hard). Moments later a man screamed out “There is a man underneath”.
I like to believe that that was the Voice Of God. The only thing that stopped the bus driver from moving ahead!
It’s great to have our parents around. There is nothing more valuable than them in this world! So cherish them!