GULAAL

Abhyuday Shankar Rathore was as serious a man as his name projected him to be. Always to the point, no-nonsense, no witty remarks or exchanges with anyone. He was a strict police officer serving as a jailer. Continuous dealing and handling of hard core criminals sucked out every bit of fun side which was left in him.  

He raised his kids in a strict disciplinarian environment. They followed a schedule for everything. Right from getting up in the morning, exercise, getting ready for school, coming back, lunch, study time, evening play time, study, dinner and bedtime: everything was pre-planned and strictly followed.

It was the day of holi. There was a small ceremony at the jail. The Inspector General of the district was supposed to come. Abhyuday was ready for his office. He was sitting at the table reading a newspaper waiting for his breakfast. Suddenly his 3 year daughter came with a handful of gulaal and tried putting it on him. Most of it fell on his uniform. Abyuday was furious. He held his daughter’s arm and shouted at her.

His wife came running from the kitchen and lifted her daughter in her arms as Abhyuday continued shouting at her and blaming his wife for being careless. His son peeked from behind the curtains, scared to say anything.   

Abhyuday was late to the ceremony. The first and last time in his career. 

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One year later it was holi again. Abhyuday was sitting at the table. There was a packet ofgulaal lying in front of him. This year the mayor of the city was coming to attend the ceremony at the jail. But Abhyuday was not in a hurry.

He picked up the packet of gulaal and his walking stick. Then he took out a small portion of the gulaal and smeared it on the framed picture. First his wife, then his son. Then he took some more gulaal and put it over the face of his daughter. Most of the powder fell down to the floor, with just a small portion sticking to the picture.  

Abhyuday walked towards the kitchen taking support of his stick. He hated it but he had no choice. The accident last year took his family from him and his right leg too. He was on honorary continuation of his duty and was supposed to be retired on medical grounds 3 months later. He was still the tough man he used to be. At least that’s what others thought of him. Although the strips of sleeping pills and the empty bottles of liquor in his room told a different story altogether.

He crossed the mirror in the living room. He paused for a while and went back to the table and picked up the packet of gulaal. He stood in front of the mirror intently looking at himself. He took a handful of gulaal and smeared on his face.

The tears left streaks on his face giving him a creepy look. That was the first and last time in his adult life that Abhyuday cried.

His body was discovered on his bed three days later. Post-mortem said overdose of sleeping pills.