The Death Clock

"He searched for his daughter for hours but never found her. He was crying and hoping that one day this sea who swept away his only and only daughter will give her back. Krishnan lost his daughter Geetha in that brutal and quick Tsunami waves in India."Come back please," he murmured. He could see, rows of homes along the beach were crushed as though a bulldozer cut them in half. Sea was like mother, livelihood and the sustainer but now she snatched his life from him.
It was the unforgettable 26th of December, 2004, which dawned mutely like all the other mornings. It was so with the coastal areas of Tamil Nadu. But on that Sunday's morning, all of a sudden, from Marina Beach in Chennai and down to the coastal areas of Cuddalore, Nagapattinam and then down south to Colachel, the coastal area on the west side of Kanyakumary, tip of India, things changed for the worst. In no time, the sea, in a sudden ferocity, rose high and enclosed the land two to three kilometers inland with its watery grid. In this process thousands of people were taken off unaware into the fold of the sea and killed.
Krishnan was a poor fisherman who was living happy with his 18 year's old beautiful daughter, this was his family. She was a life line for him. He came back to that place where he had his house which was more like a heaven, bleakly searching for his daughter; he found nothing except battlefields with broken buildings, carcasses of animals, uprooted trees and lone houses and huts. With a broken heart he started looking the dead bodies for one last time he could see her angel's face. He was standing here where yesterday he left his daughter before going to the market.
His optimism died. He had nothing. The past was flowing in his thoughts. Just flowing like a sea over the cruel loss and destiny. Looking for those moments which slipped from his hands. Suddenly he saw a bright things under the cruel debris .With his wet eyes he went closer to see what's still there shinning and sparkling. He took out it gently and what's this? He got his own clock with the understated swirl of oriental gold, red lacquer ,which his daughter bought for him .She placed this golden clock next to his cot.He held it and embraced the clock. This is the only thing which was left in the name of Geetha's memories. Sharp at 6:30 he used to leave his house daily when his daughter offered a hot cup of coffee and bread. Along with these two members, this golden clock always witnessed their shared love, grief and joy. He looked into the strange mirror of his clock just to see what he could see. He saw his daughter's smiling face .The hands of the clock still moved slowly and screening the death time. Krishnan wanted this time to stand tranquil so he clogged the clock. He held the clock in his arms and walked slowly towards the seashore.