When all was lost

Beads of sweat trickled down his forehead, accumulating for a moment at the bulbous tip of his nose , before finally free falling into the vacant space below. His forearms ached in the cold, as they clung tightly to the metal railing. It had been fifteen minutes , since he had lost the feeling in his toes , all that remained now, was sporadic tingling that rose up the length of his spine.
He turned his eyes towards his watch , straining in the light of the night , to see the time. His eyes remained fixed on the second hand. His mind raced with every movement it made.
It was 5:43. The sun had been forecasted to rise at 5:57.
His eyes followed the cloudy textures to the hills beyond. His eyes felt moist, and for a moment he thought it was a bead of sweat. He wait for the burning sensation , but it never came. It was a ear , the very first of the night. He closed his eyes hoping to hold it back. He was so close , and he could not give in to emotion. It was all practical. He had nothing left to go on.
The wait had been symbolical to him. It represented a new dawn , a beginning where the past would no longer matter. The plan for the first time in many years , was not a complicated. . Nights of contemplating and reasoning had eaten away at the fear of his inevitable destiny. His plan was as simple as a single step into thin air, after that gravity would do its bit. And then there would be no more sleepless nights . The guilty thoughts would vanish , and there would no longer be any loneliness.
He had long lost all his belief in the existence of a God. But the sight in front of him made him doubt his own disbelief. Perhaps God did exist , for such a marvel , no human hand could have painted. Upon the darkened textures of the clouds, shadowed by the silhouettes of distant mountains, the first tinge of orange had appeared. He closed his eyes.
His watched beeped 5:57

Kaksi

The melancholy rose as the gentle breeze caressed the fallen leaves. For those who cared to listen , it seemed like whispers floating in the wind. The sun peaked shyly between the mountains , its orange flair , merging in the darkness of the clouds that rumbled in the distance ahead. The birds had turned silent , and the silence of the tree’s gelled with its surrounding.
The church on the top of the hill , remained just the same as it had been the last year. Old and abandoned , it stood fixed to the ground , protected only by a wrought iron gate and a rusty old padlock. She could see the archways of the gate from where she stood. There were tears in her eyes as she glanced back at the tall, lanky man, who silently gave her a reassuring nod.
A strong gust of wind blew , as she pushed open the gate. She clasped her fingers the rusted iron holding , half expecting it to collapse, but it held on. The pebble strewn path ahead of her , remained the very same. The grass was longer , and she carefully chose her footing, narrowly missing the splattered cow dung on many occasions. The shattered glass pieces on the ground , probably belonged to the broken window ahead. The broken padlock hung lazily on the door. No one had bothered to change it. It only took a simple push to open the termite bitten door.
She covered her nose with her scarf , expecting a dust laden hall. But surprisingly , the hall breathed of life. Windows stood shattered on either side. Their culprits lay on the floor beside them , mangled into a rubbery mass. What had once been the altar for the sacred mass, was now a wicket. The red carpet on which, the glorious choir had once carried the cross , now was just a cricket pitch. Time sure had passed by , and people had forgotten this church , once the new church had been constructed down the hill. Oddly enough , the gully cricket kept the life of this church.
It was not so very long back , when this church had sprouted with life. This church had always been the greatest highlight of Kaksi’s life. Her childhood memories remained within these walls. It was within these walls , that she spent hours mourning the death of her parents. It was within these walls, that Father Dominic , had held her . And it was within these walls , that she was first introduced to the person who she had shared her closest bond with.
‘Ammachy’ as she fondly called her grandmother, had always been old and withered. Kaksi had not known that she had a grandmother, until the day , Father Dominic placed her little hand , within an old wrinkled one. The tear that fell on the clasped hands, had sealed the bond between the two.

There could be no day , better than a Sunday, Kaski would say. Sundays meant sitting beside Ammachy , staring into her animated expressions as , father Dominic’s voice boomed across the hall. Kaksi , would silently count the number of wrinkles on her grandmother’s forehead. Her teacher had once told her , that the age of a tree could be found by counting the number of rings on its bark. Kaksi, had wondered if it was the same with humans.
They said people died , when they got old. Perhaps her parents had ran out of space for their wrinkles. But Ammachy still had a lot of space on her forehead. The fear of being left alone made Kaksi , silently search for vacant spots on Ammachy’s forehead.

That was a very long time back. The pathway which she used to navigate to her mother’s grave, whilst holding Ammachy’s hand, was not hard to find. Kaksi , looked into the horizon ahead , the dark clouds would be upon them soon. She turned back to have a glance at Roy , half expecting him to be irritated. Roy returned her gaze , with yet another reassuring nod.
The wind blew hard , the leaves hurled themselves at her. The graveyard shrieked and cried. Every soul beat their chest , in memory of those who had left them to rot here. It took her a while to find the grave she was looking for . She could see her mother’s tombstone form where she stood , but she did not move. She stared down at the tombstone in front of her. All of a sudden , the place went quiet.
She knelt down in front of a tombstone , that bore marking of her beloved Ammachy. It seemed like it was just yesterday , when Ammachy clasped her chest , whilst she disowned her. It was the following year that Ammachy had died. No one even bothered to inform Kaksi.

Perhaps if Kaksi , had continued counting the wrinkles , she would have realized that her Ammachy was finally running out of space. Kaksi closed her eye, fighting the tear that had swelled up. All alone , and guilt , she felt herself collapse on the granite block that separated her from her Ammachy. A strong hand grasped her . As she looked backed at Roy, her tears flowed as river. Her cries masked by the rumble of the clouds, and then the heavens opened up and cried wit her.