A Day of Two Extremities - Gopikrishnan(Group 2)

              A Day of Two Extremities

Now I could comprehend... that day was like a Mayfly. Maybe even a shorter span. But till this moment I am sure that that day is carved in my mind like an etched in stone. It can't be erased.

It was a Wednesday. A relatively frigid morning. But I was having sweats in my body. I was looking straight and standing in steady posture. What I was supposed to see was only that red thing in the palm of the person who was running towards me. He stopped before the line and released the ball. It was an inswinging delivery that pitched outside off stump. I defended. A voice said 'that's enough'. It was our school cricket team selection day. My joy knew no bounds when I saw my name in the list of selected  members to the team. Yes, I was going to play those fast swinging deliveries, of the opponents, for my school. On my way back home, I was thanking The Preserver whole heartedly. No, in a way it was not a whole hearted thanks giving. I had a bit of self efficacy in some corner of my heart. To be a part of a stupendous batting lineup was a thing of extreme pride for me.

I reached home. But I didn't feel my home to be sharing my blissfulness. Even the windows and doors of my house appeared to be countering my delight. My mother came to me and spoke some words, which I was not able to get as my ears were already experiencing the strong, disgusting whistling sound of death. I felt the wetness in my eyes. But I hid my tears as I saw her weeping .

Until this second, I could clearly recollect each of those moments. But here the word recollect might not be apt because I never fail to recall anything that happened then. So there is no meaning in saying that I recollect those moments. Anyway I could precisely proclaim that my eyes explained what happened back then. The 'fire', of overwhelming joy, in my eyes suddenly got exhausted by tears that were reverberating the death of my grandmother. Hence I realise now, my happiness of that day, was even shorter than the life of a Mayfly. If it is death that ends the life of a Mayfly, it was sadness that killed my elated mind.


                                By Gopikrishnan V Kaimal
                                     Group 2