I kissed my wife goodnight and left her to sleep before moving up to the terrace, where I found solace to ponder the day's work and make plans for the next.
After sitting on a chair I took out a cigarette and my cell phone rang before I could light it.
“Who could it be at this hour?” My mind was clustered with numerous unwelcome possibilities.
Since Om had gone for his undergraduate course, I was left alone on this terrace during the night. He would listen, he would talk; he would instruct me like a wise-mature man while taking the cigarette away from my hand, “Dad smoking is not good for you”. For some reason, the need to smoke was not there in his presence; things seemed fine, and problems appeared solvable.
He decided to go to Mumbai for studies; I didn't want to cage his dreams into this small town's small alleys and narrow-mindedness. He always knew exactly what he wanted from life.
I always sit with his jacket to feel his presence; the jacket he left behind saying, “There is no winter in Mumbai, Dad. You keep it as my gift to you.” And his laughter lit every corner of my heart.
He knew that my small shop would not suffice to provide the living expenses of a big city along with his college fees. I would send whatever I could to make his education, if not comfortable, less troublesome. I knew that he lied to me when he started working part-time in a bar; like always he found a way to overcome challenges. When you are close to someone you know when they are lying and why!
I was proud of him; he was handling the situation responsibly.
After the fifth ring, I reluctantly picked up my phone.
It said, “Are you Om’s father?”
“Yes, who is this?”
“Sir, I am calling from Fortis Hospital, Mumbai. There was a road accident, your son was with his friend on a bike which crashed with an SUV; he had severe injuries on his head and was brought to the hospital, but I am afraid doctors couldn’t save his life.”
I couldn’t breathe, couldn't stand. I clung onto Om’s jacket, bringing it closer to my heart which just forgot to beat.
They took me to see Om’s lifeless body; shock blocked the way for tears to roll down. I wanted to know, "Why?"
Shashank, the boy who was riding the bike, survived and confessed that he was drunk, however, Om was sober, and they were returning from their night duty.
It took me one full year to forgive and be forgiven!
Now, my NGO works in many cities conducting seminars in high schools and colleges to educate youth about the perils of drink-and-drive. I conduct them wearing Om’s jacket; it gives me the strength to share my pain open-heartedly. If it can prevent even one accident or save even one life, I will move closer to finding Om!