My Little Princess(Rex Raman Rajkumar) The room that was once filled with her giggles now remained barren. Though filled with her belongings and her dolls, but void of her sweetness, it looked like an empty coffin to me, the gap which she once filled up between me and my wife was left blank all again. I looked like a stranger in my own home. I had no power to undo the past that had crossed our lives, and yet I had no energy left within me to look out for the future. She used to be my confidence, my guide and my light. But she left everything behind and I felt like burning it away already.

I sat in my car, staring at the dark home that I was to enter. I couldn’t get out, I wanted to steer around and make my way for the cliff but I wasn’t strong enough. The back seat of my car, which once used to be filled up with balloons and dolls, now filled up with my office boxes. I was given a month sabbatical off work. Unclear and unwilling of the obviousness, I jumped out of my car and dragged my way into the home. I was used to being hugged whenever I would return from my work, even my dog, Leo, would jump up to me trying to play, but then like a turn of winds it had disappeared into an invisible absence.

She would have hugged and kissed me and I would kiss her back as she would open the door for me. I always felt welcomed in that home, but it was long gone. What was left of it was that there was only the shadow of darkness that waited to appreciate my return. I looked like a stranger in my own home. I turned on the light of the room, to find Leo helplessly lying on the couch. He looked at me but then soon shut his eyes. The house accommodated just the shadow of the past.

I turned off the lights, closed the door in front of me, turned around and walked back to my car where I felt welcomed, at least. My wife would run after and would get at me when I used to storm out of the home, and would dare me to go away, and I had never left the house again in that way. But time was changing; she wasn’t there anymore to get mad at me. I felt bound even in the freedom of loneliness that I was left behind with.

When I would turn on the ignition I used to feel good, warmth with the music of Bryan Adams and would look forward to my day. But with times I had broken down my stereo, it had simply started to irritate me. What was left of it was the country music that I couldn’t get clear of, for it was my wife’s memory and was the only way through which I could get rid of the present and go back to those past.

I started the gear, and waited for a while in a hope that someone would call me back to the home. I waited and waited but none turned up to throw tantrums. I turned to see once more but it was still dark, no one had touched the curtains for months and no one had put up the candle lights. It was the shadow that had started to haunt my once sweet home. Everything was gone; time had ripped me of everything that I had. I was left with nothing but a hole in my heart that would never be filled up. I felt like a hollow barrel.

As I turned my way to the roads, I could feel the unusual uproar of the children. Few rode the bicycles, few ran titter tatter, few rode the swings, but I couldn’t see my daughter out there. I looked at the sliding bench where she always used to play, but it was left all alone, she wasn’t there. She had left the playground too. The peace that she used to carry around had then corroded when she left the place all by itself.

I went to the bar, where I met my wife six years ago. I felt like being back to my own past for it hadn’t changed a bit in all these years. The downtrodden US Military jeep was still there in the front of the bar. The bikers who had stopped by from their ride for some drink were there, only that the faces were different. But neither had I known the earlier ones, what made it right was the warmth of their presence that I felt. As usual there were those street dancers having their battles on, and the hounds of spectators that could not keep the eyes off them even for a second. Everything was just the same, every bit. What made it all different was me; nothing had been left of me to merge among them and feel the excitement of being one of them.

What felt right at that moment was to get drunk and forget everything, just the same way I had been drunk the day everything was to change.

I woke up in the middle of the ride back to my home. Emma was staring at me holding a piece of hand-made star in her hand. She was beautiful, ever then the paradise that I used to dream about. Ever charming, ever cheery and ever sweet, she was my cute little princess. Suzanna, keeping her hands on the wheel, whispered back to both of us, “Honey! Come up in the front. Let your daddy sleep, he must be tired.” My lady, who had always been there to make my life an adventure and to fill it up with excitement, had given me another precious gift when she had our daughter.

Our dog was another addition to our life. When Emma was born we brought Leo home, so that both of them could play together. Small and cuddly was he, his playful tail would always baffle Emma. She would chase after the tail while he would go round and round until one of them got tired and laid down on the carpet. The house would fill up with their noise and cries and barks, but it was something that gave me a strange peace. I couldn’t have asked for more, they had already completed me.

But things were eventually changing, and I could feel the change. I felt it right to my heart and it pained me a lot. And yet I felt helpless. All the while back to the home, Suzanna didn’t say a word to me and I had preferred to be silent by myself. Our words were not going to make things any better. We had failed against the races of truth, prayers, science and deaths. We had failed to raise our child to see the better world of hers, to date a guy and to fall in love. We had failed to give the living that was her right; we had failed.

The wheels had stopped rolling but neither of us had wanted to get down and face the truth. Emma, who was still holding the star that I made for her, jumped back to me again with her broad smile and yelling we were back home. She was the only thing that hadn’t changed. Her smile enlightened me a bit and made me jump out of the car carrying her on my shoulder. That was the least that I could have done for her, that was the least that I could do to capture another memory of her.

For a while I felt nothing had changed when my wife came running to us, and with Leo wiggling his tail. For a while I felt, maybe, maybe our past would come back to us. We used to spend the entire evening in our lawn. She would ride on me and Leo would follow us, while my wife would talk to our neighbors, but not really into the words she was speaking. I could see the brightness in her eyes when she would smile at us and knew she hated talking to them when she could play with us. We were still the young lovers. Emma would run away and drag her to us, oh! She used to look so cute when she would excuse my wife off our neighbors. My neighbors wouldn't stop laughing and pinched at her cheeks which she hated and would tell them so. But even then, that would not stop my neighbors, she was their favorite too.

When I would get tired I would lie down and gaze at the blue sky. Emma and my wife would soon join me; we would close our eyes and hold our hands and wish for a prayer that we never be kept apart from each other. We would pray that our life be filled with wonderful colors. Leo would soon sit down too, wanting to join in our prayers. And when he would get restless, he would roll and roll on the grass till he saw our neighbor’s cat. Emma would catch his ears stopping him from chasing the cat. She would grab the tail and would whisper to him, “Bad Dog!” Whilst they played together I would tightly hold Suzanna’s hand, look at her blue eyes and would thank her for everything. She would come close to me smiling with her eyes, and would tenderly kiss me.

When Emma would have gone to bed, Suzanna would open up a bottle of champagne. I would curiously ask for the occasion and so simply she would reply, “Because we love each other a lot and we have Emma.” Then she would turn on the country music and we would dance as if the night was far to come. She would sit on my lap and we would watch together ‘Love Story’ and every time she would cry when Jennifer leaves Oliver. She would then cuddle me and say that she would never leave me. It felt so true, it felt so right.

Emma had always wanted to go to the beach; she had always wanted to build the sand castle for which she would be the princess. When she had done with her own castle, she crowned me King Charles and my wife as the Queen Suzanna. My wife and I would then present her another hand-made star, each time different in color. She had always said, “These stars would always be with me to shine in my life” and would carefully place it inside her pockets, never to be exposed and never to be kept apart.

But who was to know how true any promises were? Who was to know how long the promises were meant for?

While Emma took interest in building the small castle, Leo had another interest of going over it and ruining the little masterpiece. I would tell Emma, “Leo is sad, you haven’t given him the name in this castle.” She would then reply, surprised that I said so, “But he knows he is always going to be with me!” and she would chase after him.

Emma was playing with Leo, and we were celebrating another newly found love. Suzanna had a surprise planned for me. She came close to my ear and in her husky voice she whispered, “I am pregnant”. She told me later that the expression which I gave was something to be preserved in an album. I was excited; I was screaming; I hadn’t known how to show it. “Where’s Emma?” I asked. “Wait till I tell her the news! She will be so happy.” I shouted again.

Emma had stopped yelling, when Leo started to bark. And when we turned away from each other, we saw her unconsciously lying on the sand, her back facing the sun. I ran to her and tripped down where she lay. She wouldn’t move. When I had lifted her up, I felt my world coming into pieces by pieces.

It was almost dark when I took down Emma off my shoulder and guided her into the home. She debated asking that she wanted to play with us a little more time. She complained that it had been four months she had not been allowed to play outside with Leo or her friends. She was being deprived of her childhood; she was being snatched off of her happy moments. What could we do but to hear her complain and yet be doing nothing, we were helpless. I had failed to be the perfect father for my little princess. I had failed to give her all the happiness without being asked for. What could I do but to watch her, going into her room, quietly. The doctor had reminded us not to expose her to much physical stress, for if we did, she might have to bear another severe attack.

Suzanna stood in the kitchen, feebly looking at me. Her belly had grown bigger; it was her five months counting. The last time we were in the hospital, the doctor had told us that the baby would be born healthy. But when asked about the disease, if any, he had said that it was too soon to diagnose. Suzanna had not known either what to do when Emma left the room quietly into hers; she had preferred to be numb, camouflaging her semi-exposed painful smile.

It was a week before to that day, when I returned home after the work, I saw Emma playing in the swing. Suzanna was nowhere to be seen. How careless could she have been? I was furious, and angry. I screeched parked my car in the lawn, sprinted to the playground and dragged Emma into the home, howling like a hungry jackal. Out of fear, she let go off my hand and ran to her mom. I waited for no second and shouted at Suzanna, “Are you out of your mind to leave her there all by herself?” She remained there fixed, shocked to see me scolding at her mom. She clutched tightly at her mom, as I spoke and shouted. She had thought I was scolding her. Suzanna didn’t say a word. She simply lifted her up, took her by the waist and climbed upstairs into the room.

Emma had almost come into tears.

I was left there in the middle of the room unattended, with no words but the silence that had cribbed into the hollow soul of mine. I remained there unchanging at the shallow words that I had spitted out and regretting the every letters that I had dripped off.

It was not supposed to be that way and I had known I would regret it every day.

I climbed upstairs and opened up her door, without knocking, fearing she wouldn’t have allowed if I had asked. “Emma”, I called out slowly. There was no reply yet I stepped inside. Suzanna had gone out of the room when she saw me. I was suddenly the baddie in their life. Emma was still crying and when she saw me, she covered her face with her bunny pillow. Through the semi-permeable cotton pillows, I had still heard the tiny sound of her cries. I dared not take the pillow off her face. “Emma, daddy is sorry.” I whispered. “I will never do that again, I promise.”

By then she had taken the pillow off her face, her nose had turned reddish. Weakly fighting with her irrepressible cries, she said out a tiny word, “pinky promise?” I went close, kissing her at the cheeks and lifting her up, hugging her, and said the words she had wanted to hear.

"Yes I promise."

A promise of incorrigible emotions that I had not known would chain me for the better and the worst part of the life, a promise that I could have kept so easily yet seemingly hard to reach out, a promise that I would eventually be breaking.

I woke up in the middle of the night. I was naked and so was she. I had not known how long I had been in her apartment. How drunk was I? My cell had registered 21 miscalls, one after every minute, all from Suzanna but for the last five calls.

Picking up the clothes that were strewn away all over the floor, I sneaked out sleazily from her apartment. ‘What the hell happened last night?’ As I walked down into the road, I was lost in the thoughts of how I was going to explain to Suzanna, or the worst, should I ever be telling her. The realization of the confrontation made my heart skip a little bit. She was the world to me; she meant everything, and the idea of losing her made me numb.

I was lost into the deep thoughts of the unattended near future, a future that truly had held my time of life. As I stood flustered in the middle of the road, the reverberation underneath my jacket brought me back to where I was supposed to be standing. I felt the vibration of the heated heart as I pressed the receive button, "HELLO...!"

The air of medium was a creaky, huskily diminishable voice, everything that was passing through, a gasp of whisper calling out softly yet un-acknowledged. After a very brief momentum I heard the clear voice wrenching loudly into my ear.

"Is this Charles D’Souza? I have bad news …"
It was a croaky male voice at the other end that had called and answered, a voice that had come to pass me the message that the pages of the book were overturning and that it had almost started to reveal the written words. The numbness within seized me, the voice was plain and clear of the words.

The dreams I saw, the hopes that I had built up, all came down, collapsing at my feet. My future was indeed changing. I tried avoiding the time as much as I could. I had wanted my heart rate to be at slow pace as I drove slowly. I had wanted my slow tears to dry away as I cried. I had wanted the cacophony of honks to be those sweet and slow love songs. I had hoped that the world would come to a still and I would never have to face the fate that had been so ungraciously waiting for me. I had wished that I could turn back and run away as far as I could but to take on the path I was supposed to be. Slow, sweet pain I had felt. Slow, sweet sorrow I had earned. Slow and sound, I had felt the coma of emotions.

She was not supposed to be crying. I should have known and had stayed there by her side. But I wasn’t the perfect dad, I had never been. Her cries were her shriek for help, her cries were her demand for love, but I had failed and was helpless yet again.

"MOM" Emma had managed to voice out her last call.

Suzanna rushed in, puffing, inside her room. She broke down, paralyzed to see Emma on the floor fighting hard to catch a fresh air. Another stroke attack had grasped her down to the floor. She dragged her feet and reached at Emma, had held her hands and had been whispering slowly, "Emma dear, do not close your eyes." Emma had held her hands, and squeezed them as she fought to inhale some fresh air. The tears that had been hidden underneath her care and emotions had then dropped down, falling right over her cheeks. She had been crying; she had been wrong when she had shouted to Charles that she could have taken care of Emma alone. She wished she had never been right.

Suzanna was in her eight and some months. She was due to deliver in another week.

She was not supposed to drive. I should have known and had stayed there by her side. But I wasn’t the perfect husband, I had never been. Her painful stare was her whisper for her love. How could I have been that blind?

She carried Emma and fastened her in the back of the car as she dove into the driver’s wheel. She had been calling me up. She had been trying to tell me that her life was half-complete without me by her side. She had been trying to tell me that everything would be back to normal with time. She had called me up to tell me that our daughter had needed me. She had called me up to whisper that she had always loved me and that she was scared.

She gave a quick glance at her daughter, who’d lain unconscious at the back of the seat. The tears were still visibly wet. Her hands had then been shivering; she could have felt the fear as she had touched the wheels. The cell that was in her left hand tripped off at her feet. She hadn’t thought of picking it up and so she drove as fast as she could to reach a hospital in time.

I had called her up in my soberness that I would be staying at my office that day. When she hadn’t picked it up I didn’t try for the second time.

She had felt the vibration of the call at her feet as she drove. The flash lights had shown the call from ‘Charles’. She slowed down a moment and bent down to reach for the cell.

1 miscall from Charles.

As she picked it up and placed her eyes back at the wheels, the vehicle had already been hit by a fast moving truck.

Life doesn't unfold the way you may have written. It doesn’t have a master but itself. Life is selfish, cunning and, the worst, it lies at times. The doctor that exited from the operation theatre was no different. He had put up the words so simply as to make it sound it was just another bad day. What he hadn’t known was the lifelong bad day that had awaited me.

He stood by me, holding his green scarf at his unmasked hand. I took all the words bit by bit yet all were indigestible.

"Your wife had a miscarriage and she had bled a lot by the time she was brought here. And your daughter..."

He hesitated a little.

"She had never woken up from her unconscious state. She was probably dead even before the accident. I am sorry for your loss."

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"Sir, your drink!" The bartender shook me off from the moment of respite I was having. He continued, "The bar is closing, do you want to order something more?"

I mumbled something, which I wasn’t clear of. The bartender came back with three more glasses of the poison that I had been drinking leaving me all by myself again at the far end corner of the room, where no one would have noticed me. I drank down one glass, a moment of pause for a few seconds, then another.

I was crying but I hadn’t known why. A few customers who passed by gave me a sympathy gaze. A few just passed by giving me no concern.

To one such customer I passed a comment, “Who are you looking at?” to which I got a skewed reply, “I pity your wife and daughter.”

“Me too” I said, grabbing another glass of the poison and drank it all down. She left me a stare and went away. I grabbed the last glass and without a clinch I gulped it down to the last drop.

I dropped the glass to the floor shattering it into pieces. Synchronizing the sound of the shattered pieces as it made my head too dropped over the glassed table making it more brittle.


The marooned life was brought back with more colors filled in it. The soothing breeze of the beaches felt my heart as a warm sheath of unending happiness. The footprints that I had left as I stepped on the wet sand were soon washed away by the slow tides. Far front I saw my daughters and Suzanna taking a walk. Emma turned to see me walking to them. She let her hands off my wife and soon runs towards me. Kissing her and taking her up I hugged her tightly. Suzanna turned too with her arms wrapping around a child.

“Charles! So glad that you’re back.” She cried.

“Me too”, I replied back.

Far fetched I heard cries. "Someone call an ambulance quick. He’s bleeding." The cries grew dimmer and dimmer as I was carried away and then it all grew slow and dark.


--The END

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