The Last Memory

He sat there cross-legged in his dingy cell. Like a Buddha meditating. Reminiscing on his past memories. Living those old days again. He knew he did not have much time now. But the memories were too many. Time was less. He could not compromise. He did not want his life to be flashed before his eyes just a few minutes before he died. He wanted to live them at his own will. He wanted to make sure he had lived his life till the very end.

The jail guards were not bothered by this. They were used to two kinds of convicts. First, who would turn sad and cry all the time, repenting their deeds and second, who would just accept their fate. They just let him be. It was their way of respecting a person who was about to die. To them, now, his sins did not matter.

The man, in his mid thirties, of medium build, did not repent even a bit for his crime. He would not even if Satan in hell tortured him in the most brutal way. Nobody could make him forget the last whimper of his little girl. Nobody could erase the memory of his beloved wife coughing out blood and her pale eyes wordlessly saying, please, ease the pain...The scar of watching his wife and his daughter staring blankly at him, dead, had rippled the tranquillity of his mind forever. Tuberculosis has done its job. He could do nothing more except one thing. The corrupt government doctor deserved it.

Back in his cell, he ventured his mind into his daughter’s memories. Ahh.. How beautiful she was. How he used to play with her with her dolls. He remembered the day when she came running up to him, showing how she had written the English alphabet without her teachers help. How she had let go of a particular toy which he could not afford. How both of them had made fun of mom. He remembered how happy she was when he had brought her new dresses from the town and how she paraded all around the house wearing each one of them. She was his princess. An angel. The purpose of his life. He knew he had not been a rich father... But he knew one thing...he was a good papa and that was what counted. But she had been too little to understand all this. He was not able to give her other luxuries like her friends. Forgive me child, I will do my best in my next life, if I ever get to be your papa again, he prayed.

He prayed for one more thing. Just one more..he wouldn’t mind if he were to be pushed into a cauldron of boiling oil in hell, even if he is given a hundred lashes for his crime, even if he is destined to be in hell for a hundred years, he just prayed that if he ever gets a mortal life on this earth again, he wanted his poor dead wife back as his wife again.. He knew he was her sinner. He was not able to give the best. But he had tried his best...She was ever so understanding, swallowing her desire for gold and diamonds because she knew he could not afford any of it. His heart wept at the thought of it.

But now there was no time for sad memories..he remembered her as a bride, how beautiful and gracious she looked. How they had taken the vow of being together always..in life and after..how beautiful she looked when she was angry with him after a fight ...he remembered all this..good old times.

This enchanted mental state of his was disturbed by the noise of the jailer unlocking his cell and saying in a quiet voice...It’s Time....

He got up quietly and started walking towards his end. By the early morning sun, which had just risen beyond the horizon, He could see the gallows. He was not afraid or shaken. Instead, he stared back at it , poker-faced. He closed his eyes, drifted into a memory of his wife, daughter and him laughing together over a family joke. He was asked..Any last wish ? He smiled and said.. I have had mine fulfilled sir... opened his eyes and went to meet death as an old friend.