He Just Laid There...

He just laid there. Waiting to die. A tiny beam of light entered the room, piercing the curtains. It landed on his face. He didn't shun away. It made him warm. Maybe the only warmth in the freezing cold. He thought, a cup of chai with some chapatis would be so great. But it didn't matter much now. It won't matter much any further. This shall pass. SOON...

He heard the cuckoo cooing. Or at least he thought he did. He didn't know what time it was or what day it was. But he chose to believe that it was a pleasant spring morning. And he SMILED!

Smiled?! How can one just smile in the face of death? Was he content? What had he accomplished in his lifetime to be at peace? Was he remembering his fond memories? Was he seeing the faces of his beloved ones? Where were they anyway? He just laid there, on his deathbed. But none of his family ever came to see him. Did he even have any?

He wasn't very rich. At least his clothes and belongings said so. They were in fact, practically non existent. He wore the same shirt everyday. Wet, it smelt bad. Vomit, fungus, blood. He just laid there, waiting to die. 

Cancer, had caught him really badly in its grip. But he wouldn't cave in so easily. He was too stubborn. He had decided to not to surrender to it, or at least the hospital staff.

 They tried to convince him to change into the hospital clothes. He didn't budge. They also promised to get him a shirt just like his. A dark pink one. "Which man wears PINK shirt these days?", he remembers that nurse whispering. But he still won't agree. All the biological additions to the shirt had given it red, green and yellow tinges. Maybe, that shirt was something special to him. And maybe, he wanted to breathe his last while still in it. He just laid there, smiling. Waiting to die. He didn't ask for a heater. Happy with closed curtains, he didn't let them switch on the lights. What would he do with all that light? Just stare into empty nothingness? Realize his own loneliness? Still in his late forties. And it was his birthday today! He wondered how the tune for the 'Happy Birthday' song went. He hummed a few notes but soon his cough put an end to all the excitement. Coughing, gasping for air, he still smiled. How childish of him to try and sing to himself.
It was silent. What broke it intermittently was just the beeps of a machine that told the doctors that it wasn't yet the time to sign that death certificate. They kept it ready anyway. Cruel? What could they otherwise do? This homeless could never pay the bills of the hospital.
He thought he should sell his ring and thank them with all that he could. Trying hard to lift his hand up, he felt he was trying to move boulders. He heard the bones chuckle at his efforts, he let a sigh out. Bringing the ring finger close to his eyes, he opened them. In that tiny beam of light he couldn't see much clearly with his moist hazy eyes.
And he was shocked! The tiny beeps in the room now crooned faster. He opened his eyes wide open to find his ring finger empty. Then, he realized something and the beeps mellowed down. He let his hand fall by the side again and heaved a sigh. He remembered; it was stolen many days ago. Not that it mattered much. It was a stolen one anyway. He felt sorry now, for having taken away something from someone that would've meant the world to them. He imagined, having to part with that shirt of his. The thought itself was so painful. He regretted all his wrong doings now. Living off the streets, he never thought about the tomorrow. Friends? You don't really have them when you just share footpaths. Acquaintances, yes. But with all that he has done or rather not done for anybody, will anybody remember him at all? Maybe he won't be punished in hell for his sins. Maybe he won't be damned. And maybe there will be some place for him in the heavens. He just laid there... Waiting to meet his lord.
 He was once a free bird. Living carelessly. Celebrating life, even when he didn't have a great one. Does one really need money to be happy? Luxury, to live like a king? He welcomed morning suns on his face and bid good nights as he stared at stars in heavens. He drank till he fell down and got up to drink again. Death? He never thought about it. Never. And now, he just laid there... Reminiscing.

 His room was in one corner of the hospital. He could hear innocent laughter of a small girl who had come to meet her dad in the room just across the wall.
He could feel the grief and sorrow of an elderly woman crying for the loss of her husband. He envied him. He envied them both. For they had love. For they had somebody who cared. Somebody who grieved. Somebody who prayed. Somebody who would miss them when they were gone. And he asked for nothing more than that. Nobody out there in that huge world would care or even know about some sick, ill, lonely, diseased. He didn't want to die like that. With nobody knowing that he existed. That he ever lived. He just laid there... Hoping somebody would know.
He wasn't disturbed much even by the hospital personnel. His existence remained now merely as a bed occupant. Often an intern would come and note his vitals. Measure his pulse. Simply the human touch would add a few more breaths to his last remaining few. He had otherwise refused any medications. With no therapeutic hopes left, the only pills they could give him were to reduce his pain. To let him go quietly. To make his end softer. Had that happened he would be practically gone long before he really did. He wanted to feel every moment of existence. He wanted to feel the pain, it reminded him that he was still alive. He wanted to live every moment while he was 'alive', as much as he could. He just laid there... Waiting for death to lay his icy cold hands on him.

The door opened. The lights came to life. In came a maid, with a broom in her hand. She smiled at him, inquired about his well being. Asked him if he had breakfast that morning. Sweeping as she spoke, she asked him his name. "Naam kya hai aapka, chacha? Diwali aa rahi hai, aapke gharwaale kahan hain?" She finished her job and came up to the bed. She smiled at him and noded. She said, "Daro mat chacha, sab theek ho jayega" and she left.

Everything will be alright. Everything will be fine.

He smiled. He couldn't speak, but he felt really nice. He could hear the beeps slowing down. Tired, as they were, they told him that it was time. His breaths became slower. He closed his eyes and smiled. A tear drop escaped the corner of his eye and trickled down along his cheek. The drop disappeared on touching the sheets and he knew it was time for him to go too. At least somebody now knew that he existed. That he lived. That he died. Now, he just laid there...

 ... At peace.