The entire room is white. From the walls to the curtains, even the flowers on the bedside table are just bright white.The purest of all colours. It provides peace to the soul. It provides salvation.
It is a hospital room, evident from the the varied array of medical equipments surrounding the bed. On it lies my best friend Siddhart. A white sheet covering his body upto the chest. His eyes are open and looking intently into mine. His hand holding mine in a weak grasp.
Promise me Dhruv , I hear him say, but his lips aren't moving. Promise me you'll look after my family when I am gone.
I promise Sid, I say in his silent reply.
A faint smile spreads across his lips and he looks away. I am at peace now, he says. Then he closes his eyes. I hold his hands firmly in mine. They have alreay lost their original warmth, and are now as cold as that of a corpse.
Slowly and steadily the pressure of his fingers on mine recedes, until it hangs there in my own. The ECG monitor reads a single straight line, indicating the absence of heart beats.
I do not cry. Not then. Not in front of him. I know he wouldn't like it at all. I lay his hands down gently by his side. Looking back at his face I couldn't shake the feeling that he was merely sleeping. Given a nudge he would just open his eyes back. But I wouldn't do that. For he was at peace. I could see it in the very essence of his face. You rest now, old friend, I say, taking a last look at him.
My childhood friend, Siddhart, is no more. He has crossed the veil of human life and passed onto eternity where he will be forever at peace. And I know, where ever he is, he will be waiting for me, his oldest friend.
* * *
I opened my eyes and found myself on my bed. The pillow below my cheek felt wet and my vision was blurry. Touching my eyes I found them to be moist. I realised I was crying in my sleep.
Sitting up on my bed I wiped my eyes. My head was still dizzy. I looked at my watch, it was almost twelve. The car would be arriving any minute. I got out of bed to freshen up and get dressed.
The car was there by one'O clock in the afternoon. After giving Satyam proper directions, I left. As the car drove thrigh the dense roads of Delhi, my mind was busy rearranging the various images I had retained from my dream. I wish it had happened the same way, but, reality was often harsher.
Siddhart had already passed away by the time I had reached the hospital that evening. I entered to find a completely broken Kavya, who had almost collapsed in Reyansh's arms, and both of them were crying and consoling each other. Seeing me entre through the door, she came up to me and broke down in sobs again. I hugged her and spoke hollow words of consolation. But they were all in vain. I had nothing to say that could even begin to sooth their pain. I was in no condition to provide the same either. The only thing that kept running through my mind was, I couldn't even bid my friend a final goodbye. I was supposed to be there when he took his last breath, but I wasn't. I had failed him in his death as I had in his life.
I don't remember much of the remainder of the evening. My memories were hazy and the images came in flashes. I remember being with Reyansh as Sid was taken to the cremetorium. I remember going through the rites with him. Then later he guided me and his mom to a car standing outside a grey building. I remember being dropped in front of my home. I remember the last look of Kavya as the car drove her away.
Much later, I remember sitting on my bed, feeling completely dejected and powerless. I felt my body go numb and I let it fall back on the bed. But as I did, my head hit something. I sat back up and turned around to inspect the object. It was the gift Sid had given me on our last meeting. I was in a hurry to leave and had left it on the bed itself. It was his last memory, lying on those curled sheets.
I snatched it up, as if I was sntaching back my friend. Tearing open the cover I was shocked to find its content. There on my lap lay a diary, quite old, with a black velvet cover and the initials 'S' & 'D' engraved upon it. I knew this diary.
I turned the cover page and inside was a photograph, stuck on its very first page. It had two boys in it. They were in regular school uniforms. White shirts, green ties with white stripes, and bottle green pants. They had their arms around each other's shoulder and were looking at the camera, smiling. It was me and Sid.
This was the diary I had given him as a present, on his birthday, a very long time ago and had almost forgotten about it until that night.
I flipped through the pages and found it full of Sid's handwritten words. I realised he had taken my advice afterall and written in it throughout till the last page. Passing my finger over those inked words, I found memories of Sid contained within them. I found my entire childhood displayed within those pages. I closed the diary and laid down back on the bed, keeping it on my chest, where it lay close to my heart. It was the most precious object in my life at that moment and I knew it would remain so for as long as I drew breath.
Tears had started to form in my eyes for the first time that evening and I could not hold them anymore. I looked through them at the invisible sky and its countless invisible stars. There, amongst them somewhere, I knew Sid would be looking back at me, smiling. The childish thought brought an unwilling smile on my own face. Tears flowed through the side of my face and I let them, for they were not of pain. They were of love and of the affection that we had shared. I put my arms around myself, hugging the diary. I had got my friend back, and I held him in my arms.
"Thank you Siddhart," I whispered to the empty room.
