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.

Reminiscencing my teacher...!!!

I still remember my History teacher who was very famous for her magnificent memory as historians are illustrious for their good memory. She taught me from class 6th to class 12th. (In India we call it intermediate) but soon she was retired and after 3 years we went to meet her at her residence. . She welcomed us and discussed all about our future plans and the past reminiscences but in between she forgets the whole thing and in between she just ask who are you all. To whom do u want to meet? We were shocked with this impulsive activities.other than again after 10 minutes she started asking about the Modern History .We were very sad that day. I always heard about the people who are exaggerated with this situation. Is it Alzheimer’s or Dementia? Or Schizophrenia? Are there any scientific definitions for this situation? Despite the fact that in many movies and fiction we have read and seen this character but when it comes to a real life it is an unforgettable…I was apprehensive about my teacher but seems her situation could not be back to a normal life. She lives all alone in her big house. She lost her only son in an accident .No body could guess the actual reason for her coming and going memory. She was known as the one who can’t forget any date any name any event. Whenever I am in my home town I stop by and meet her, in this hope that she will recognize me at least for one minute only and I will live that moment and rest of the time I sadly look to what she does all the time. Though no body has the right to peep in other’s personal life but as the matter of sentiments I want each of her details to be written where I can state what is the pain of that and what a person is with her memory and what she is ,when memory is not with her. What could be called… a tragedy where she feels it each and every second.