The Aftermath

 

"Papa!, Papa!"

A faint voice, as if from a far distance, brought me to my senses. The voice got clearer as I opened my eyes. She was staring at me. With the prettiest of smiles and with the sweetest of voices, she said, "Papa, come, let's play." All I could do was smile.

 

There were rubbles all around. Unsettled dust had engulfed the air, behind which a brutal truth loomed over. The sky was mourning something unbearably painful and was gray.

I feebly attempted to get up. I couldn't.

"Honey, help papa get up, please." I extended my arms towards her.

Enervated disbelief faded; her ardency made me stand on my feet. I looked around in the hope of finding traces of any heartbeat. The whole city was dead; no wonder the sky was gloomy.

"Come papa!" she said.

She looked gauzy. A tiny little fragment of light, of an angel. An angel I was swooning towards. Her presence had me pule over and over; that's all I could do. Amidst the blood-soaked soil, my tears seemed like insults. But it was all for a short while, I thought.

"This is what after-life is," I mumbled.

Her spirit was unmatched; I couldn't keep up. So, I had to pause for a breath as my heartbeat plummeted and my limbs were begging to concede. I couldn't instill the thought of another step. I felt as if I was a withered leaf waiting for a breeze to fall down, to lose existence. I was about to give up when the sweet voice spoke again, "We are nearly there Papa." She held my hand, and while she was matching her pace with mine, I wondered how far the gate was.

"When will I gain relief" I imagined.

I had fallen ten times already, rested twice as more. My little girl, whom I held right within my palms, was ushering me to heaven, holding my arms. This nightmare was about to end. A failure who couldn't shield his daughter from this penal narcissism was hoping for mercy, was hoping for death.

The sun was about to drown when we encountered flickers of light near us. "Purity at last," I hoped. "Papa, we are here.", she said. Tall silhouettes breached our boundary and shone a light on my face.

With both eyelids closed, I spoke to myself.

"Oh, Lord! Purge me with mercy, for I have sinned enough. Your blessing that I couldn't cherish, I couldn't adore. I am parched; I don't have any more blood to sweat. I kneel before your benevolence; I beg you for affection. Her soul, oh Lord, please forgive, let her breathe once more, let her live. Mad rulers, eccentric laws, false kinships and inhumane cruelty led us here, her only fault is being born here. This soldier's lovelorn soul is for you to take, I beseech your love upon that child who suffered enough for our mistake. Oh, benevolent, please make her awake. Make her awake."

His words found a way through the resounding tinnitus in my ears, "One more survivor.", he said. I was confused. "Survivor? Is it what they tell dead people here?"

He said he was happy that I had found the way there. A relief struck my back. "A bad dream and a transfigured memory.", I thought. "Everything will be okay now. Let's go.", I called for my daughter.

I moved forward a step and paused, and then stopped. I turned back, turned sideways. She wasn't there.

That man's words resounded, "ONE more survivor." It came again, "ONE more survivor." Again, and again and again. The ground vanished; I lost my stance. I saw a couple of men running over to help. When I started screaming, wailing, and crying, I realized that I hadn't sobbed enough. I will have never sobbed enough.

I was losing my breath. My visions were fading as the dystopian reality was unfolding. I heard a voice then.

The prettiest voice in the world said, "Papa, losing me is sad. But I am happy that you will make it."