Ever since I asked him to sing, he would always sing this particular one, 'Chaudhvin Ka Chaand'. I thought it was for his beloved. But no, now, when I look back, I know it was for me. The lady born on a full moon.
I still remember his last bedridden days, how he used to ask me to sing, but I was so conscious about my voice that I wouldn’t. So he would sing for me, the same song, again and again.
The biggest heartbreak of my life was seeing my first love bedridden, with a feeding tube through his mouth, adult diapers, and no control over his body. My man... it was hard. Later, we appointed a home nurse because Ammuma couldn’t handle him alone anymore. Parkinson’s made him hard to handle, it’s a bloody, shitty disease. Even the nurse couldn’t handle it and yes she left.
One weekend after school, Ammuma and I decided to give him a proper makeover. She bathed him. But before that, I shaved his beard....carefully. I had done it before, so I was a bit confident. Earlier, when he was ill but still moving, I used to even wrap him in a mundu. Except I’d always wrap it left-sided by mistake, and he would call me useless :) for those little imperfections. Even in illness, he wanted perfection. He was like that my Mr perfect.
But this time, the haircut, I had never done that before. I gave it a try. It came out perfect, except for a small patch on the right side of his forehead. I think I trimmed too much there. That was the last time we truly cared for him ourselves.
Later, he was admitted to the hospital again... for the last time.
14th September was his and Ammuma’s wedding anniversary. I was excited and asked Amma to cook chicken, not really for their anniversary, but using it as an excuse to satisfy my own cravings. I begged Ammuma to come to the hospital, but she ignored me.
15th September, a Tuesday, it was my parents teachers meet at school At exactly 2:30 PM, while I was in school, a staff member came and said, “You have a message. You’re asked to go to your friend’s or cousin’s house. Your mother won’t be coming for the PTA.”
I agreed and left. After school, I called Amma from the school reception. I heard ambulance sirens in the background. I asked her, and she kept silent and said, “It’s for someone in the opposite ward.” I believed her.
At my cousin’s house, they insisted I eat. But I was so confident I said, “No, Amma will make it for me.”
Later that evening, my Ammuma’s sister came to pick me up. When I reached home, I saw a crowd. At first, I was confused. Then, I got excited... maybe the ambulance I heard earlier was for Appupan, maybe he’s back home. One of the neighborhood ladies leaned toward Amma and asked softly, “Does she know?”
I ran up the steps of my house, eyes searching for my love.
That’s when my Amma held me back, her arms wrapped around my waist, and she said,
“Appupan poi.”
I stood numb, still searching for my moon.
But I found it to be true.
Where is my Chaand?
I stood there... numb, silent, heartbroken.
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