The Last Words

The room was filled with a grief, and a certain stench of medicines. The air was one of sadness and general repressed silence. Jolappa had come close to completing his time on God’s green earth. Everybody knew it, including him. Sleeping on the bed he was moving around reaching for his medicine.

His eldest son came up and helped him with it.

Basava, the eldest son of Jolappa had tears in his eyes. Although he hadn’t the fondest times with his father, still a father is a father.

Jolappa: Stop crying boy, reserve it for when am dead.

Jolappa was a crude, angry man who didn’t care for much. All he did care for was materials, possessions, money. He didn’t see anything else, nothing mattered that much to him.

All the relatives were slowly piling in, to pay their last respects. Jolappa was in pain. He knew his time was close. He wasn’t letting his feelings out and was being adamant about them almost to the point of isolation. Although death has this ability to bring people closer and also sympathize even if they don’t quite agree or like something, he was testing the limits there. It is said that at the time of death you unconsciously reasure that which you most longed or worked for your entire life. Although the heart really wants something else this unconscious reaction sometimes take over.

Jolappa was holding to his pain when suddenly one of the kids, Channa Basava’s kid started playing with an expensive show piece. The pain intensified he was about to pass away and before dying he whispered his last words, barely audible

Jolappa: Get those children away from the showpiece!

Basava was aghast. What a way to go. What last words to utter.. He shuddered. His father, role model

Later that evening, as he sat by himself with a drink a habit he had picked up quite out of necessity than anything else. When he was younger he took to the bottle because not much made sense, a repressed, suppressed life.

He took to the bottle.. I wonder what we take too..

His son came up to him and asked him what the significance of life was? Basava looked into the eyes of his child and all these reflections were going on within himself..

We think and speak nonsense all our lives. Thinking that we have time to rectify it, we follow ideals and copy other people’s ways in our heads thinking that we have time to find our own. But what if we didn’t? What if this instant was it? Not in a poetic or dramatic way. What if this instant was it? What would we then do? How would we then live?

He didn’t say any of it though.

He whispered in a faint voice: I don’t know..

The child was touched.. perhaps in a long time his father had spoken truth.

Child: Must be scary no?

Basva said.. Yeah and you know what.. Scary.. Alive.. Real

Something he hadn’t been in a long long while.

He sighed… A call was being made, something was being asked of him..

If there’s one thing watching his father taught him. Living life consciously and from the heart is a great game, the  ideas of what’s valuable, our own unconsciousness and our illusions of the world we want to build gets in the way of true peace and love.

Would the last words of his father be the beginning of something anew?

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