Wind of Reasons - A Short Fiction

Copyright © Chandrapal Khasiya


Life of a Civil Engineer is tough. Not because we have to deal with tough materials like concrete and steel, but all along with supervising the sites, we hardly get time to maintain a balance with our professional and personal life. Getting scorched whole day at construction sites, yelling at labours to complete the tasks -  life slowly starts becoming frustrating. Plus, our kind is so occupied with our work that  unknowingly we start looking at life with our professional perception. You must be thinking that I am speaking absurd. Yes, even I would have laughed at it if someone had told me such thing. But...life teaches. 

By the way, I am Animesh Khare. You already know I am a Civil Engineer. What you don't know  is that six months before a bridge at the outskirts of my city collapsed. Many lives were saved. Unfortunately, few lives drowned in gushing currents of the river. And in that flow, along with those unfortunates, my happiness too washed away. My wife.

"Papa." 

An innocent voice jarred me out from my work. I adjusted myself in my chair. "Yes, son."

"It's time for evening walk." 

I weakly smiled at him, then quickly threw a glance at my laptop screen. Lines and sketches filled the screen. Something was odd in those designs. I could sense it, but I was unable to spot errors.

"Seems like that young architect had attracted your attention." A matured voice almost made me jumped from my seat.

"Kaushal ! For heaven sake, knock the bloody door before you enter. You slip in my office like a thief !"

Kaushal's face contorted with offensiveness. "It's your home, not your office."

I blinked in surprise, then allowed my eyes to drift around. Kaushal was correct. It was my home. I pursed my lips in embarrassment. "Sorry, I thought..."

"It's okay," said Kaushal, surprising me. "Aman, there is something for you." From the pocket of his jeans, he produced a milky bar and offered to my son. There was a flash of happiness on my son's face, and suddenly everything felt alright.

"Aman," I stressed.

"Oh, yes, Papa." He then whirled toward Kaushal and said, "Thank you, Uncle."

Kaushal ruffled the ten year old boy's hair. "No need to thank me. Someone forgot his duty to bring a milky bar for you. Never mind,  I  brought it for you."

It was an arrow of words aimed at me. It hit its mark. I opened my mouth to respond, but no words came out. What he said was true. "Son, can you enjoy your milky bar in garden? I and your uncle have something to discuss."

"But Papa, you promised to take me out for evening walk."

I looked at my son then back at my laptop screen. The work was still pending to be analysed. No matter what it takes, I had to complete it by midnight, make a feasibility report, then send it back to that architect. But before that, I had to find those errors. Something tells me there were mistakes in the plans.  I needed time and that implied I had to postpone the promised evening walk. Still searching every inch of the screen, scanning every lines of the drawing, I said, "Son, I don't think we can go..."

"We are coming in ten minutes, Aman," Kaushal cut me in mid. "And there is a new friend waiting for you."

"Who?" I and Aman asked in unison. My son's voice was laced with excitement, mine was with shock.

Kaushal bend over Aman. "You have to wait little more. It's a surprise."

Keeping my rising doubt at bay, I waited till Aman was out. "What the hell are you doing?"

Kaushal snickered, resting his hands on the table, palms flat against the surface, eyes drilling me. "That's the question I should ask you, Animesh. What the hell are you doing?"

"What do you mean?"

Left corner of his lips sneered. I hate when he do like that. I knew something was cooking in his mind, and whatever it was, it was definitely  targeted toward me. Four years of college is enough to know a person's behavior. And then he erupted. "You are wasting your life!"

Dumbstruck, I tried to process his statement. "What?"

"Tell me,"  he pointed a finger toward me, "and tell me bloody honestly, or else this is my last visit in your home." His words were white hot with anger.

Saying something in this delicate situation was like poking a stick to the sleeping lion. Just like any  other wise man, I chose to respond by nodding.

"Tell me, why do you live?"

I threw my hands in air in frustration. "We are having this talk again? Come on, I told you..."

"Yes, yes, I know that," He again cut me in mid. "But that was a lie ! Speak from your dammed soul this time !"

I licked my lower lip. My eyes, as if searching for the answer, habitually rested on my laptop. Work? I thought. Is that why I live? I shook that thought away. The question was simple yet I faced difficulty.  Am I lost? 

"I am waiting for you answer,"  Kaushal demanded. " I don't have lifetime for it. I promised someone for ten minutes."

One more of his arrow of words pierced my ego.  I looked for the answer, but everytime my gaze drifted toward the plan flashing on the screen. This is not the answer, I told to myself. It can't be!  Frustration multiplied with every passing second. Think!

A strong wind of gust blast-opened the window's shutters behind me. I struggled to keep the papers on my table at their spots, but few escaped. And then I heard a shattering sound, glass breaking against the floor. "Damn it!" I ran over the side of the table. There laid on the floor, among the shards of glasses, the photo frame. I squatted to pick it up, and as I turned it to my side, a realization struck. Cuddling in her arms our little Aman, my wife smiled at me. Though it was just a pictorial memory but her eyes sparkled with life. Her eyes and smile, that compelled me to do crazy things during my college life. A smile tucked at my lips while tears slipped over my cheeks. I finally found my answer.

I felt Kaushal's hand over my shoulder. I looked at him.

He nodded. "Take your time."

Wiping the tears away with the sleeve of my shirt, I gasped. "Time is done. Lets not make Aman wait for long."

Kaushal offered me his hand - I grabbed it - and he pulled me up. The moment I was on my heels, he hugged me. His words were muffled. "I am glad you realized."


Aman dashed toward a swing as we entered the garden. "Be careful."

"He'll be fine," Kaushal assured. "Childhood is all about making mistakes and learn."

I shot a sharp look at him. "He is my son."

"Everyone knows that," Kaushal said. "Playground is not the area for elders like us. Come, let's walk around it."

We veered left and took a muddy road winding through trees. Joggers jogged, somewhere a group of retried people vibrated the air with their cheerful laughs. For some it was the spot of meeting. Life was actually thriving here. "Glad that you asked that question. To be honest, first I thought I was living for work."

"I would have punched you in your belly if you had said that thing." Kaushal's tone was threatening, then it softened. "But...I missed that chance!"

I smiled. "You punched me during our third year of graduation."

"Man," Kaushal's cheek reddened. "That was an honest mistake. I already apologized you for...thousand times may be."

I broke into laughter. "Honest mistake? Come on, you punched me..."

"Can't we just forget that episode?" He stole his gaze from me. "I mean I have already suffered its embarrassment."

I blushed. It was the only topic I can use as teasing weapon against him. That incident was unexpected. Let me not reveal more or else I would lose my walking partner. Something at the moment clicked in my thoughts. "Who is the friend you are talking about?"

Kaushal grinned. "Only time will tell. Do you know why did you get so involve in your work?"

My legs froze. "You know?"

Kaushal faced me, his words were soft. "I know how much you cared for her. Her loss, I understand, it's hard to move on, but you are still stuck."

"What do you mean?" I revealed my confusion. "I am not getting anything."

Kaushal took a moment before responding. "I have read the reports. That bridge was collapsed because it was not designed properly. Errors had cost your wife's life. You worked like mad after her death, you bloody upturned every page that has the mention of that blasted bridge. You skipped meals, even you were not sleeping for days until..." Kaushal licked his lips. "...until you found the reason, the error in the architectural design !"

I remained silent. Whatever he was saying, each word was true.  "How...?"

Kaushal threw his hands in frustration. "Because when you were busy in your searching, a little life was battling his own storms. Your son needed you the most at that delicate moment. His one support was snatched by the God, and another, you, was out of his reach. That kid would have been...ahhh....believe me I am seriously thinking to repeat my punch in your belly." He whirled around and stormed toward the lake, leaving the air heated with his anger.

I stood there, wordless. Every inch of me shook with shame.  What I had done? An urge to see my son started dominating my senses. My gaze shifted, but they remained downcast, weighed with guilt. A pang of pain burned my soul. I was guilty, a criminal of my own son.

But...there was a reason. 

A voice ringed in my head. Somehow that reason pulsed courage in me and my eyelids rose. There, near a swing, Aman was with someone. I squinted, but all I could make out a lady in yellow dress, her face shrouded with free locks of  her hair.

Something plopped in water. I rounded to see Kaushal tossing a smooth pebbled stone in the lake. The stone bounced three times on the surface before sinking. A plan began to form in my mind to apologize and tell Kaushal the complete truth. With measured pace I neared him, picked a round, thin stone.  It was cold and smooth. Perfect, I said to myself and swung my hand in a sharp angle. The stone whizzing through air bounced five time on the water.

Kaushal grunted. "You are  always good at throwing away things. Either it is stone or duties."

Again his words stung like needles to me. "There is a reason why I got myself so involved. Please, let me speak it out all," I said, reaching near him. Staring at the ripples of the lake, I continued. "I was lost. Broken from inside. The moment I heard her grime news, the ground beneath my feet shifted. A person needs some ambition, some reason to live. To fight against the odds of life. But she was no more. And...I was left alone, without the purpose."

Kaushal was as quiet as a stone, so I added, "The void inside me was larger than I thought. I tried, but failed to fill this void. It's impossible to forget the loss of a person on whom you depend so much. I tried, Kaushal." Sighing heavily, I kicked the pebbles at my feet. "Sometimes one need to divert his attention, make oneself so much occupied that he barely gets to think of other. So I started working like a robot, day and night, searching faults in designs, making sure no other defective structure  seizes away someone's life. I thought my work was my salvation, but never realized it was acting as destruction for my son."

A long moment of silence stretched. Kaushal patted me on my back. "Glad to see that you finally shared your burden."

I faked a smile. "She was the best person and the best architect I had ever known." Even I was surprised why I was telling Kaushal about my late wife. It seemed all praises about her bubbled out at that moment. "Her imaginations, her designs were...error free. Just perfect."

"And what about your current architect's status?" Kaushal interjected. "She too holds a good name in industry."

I didn't utter a word. Sonia was appointed as an architect for the current project. From my experience I could say, considering my wife's works as exceptional, each architect makes some error. I didn't imply that it is their fault if the structure collapses. Not at all. They have liberty to use their creativity. It is our job, Civil Engineer's, to check its feasibility before executing it. But my practiced eyes failed to find errors in Sonia's work. They were just too perfect. Just like my wife's works. And that was something I could not digest.

"She is a divorced lady," Kaushal informed.

"So what that has to do with me?" I asked. "Wait, you are not implying me to..."

Kaushal nodded, smiling. He squeezed my shoulder a little harder. "Life is all about to keep your loved ones happy, Animesh. Aman needs a mother. It's time for you to move on."

"But..." I was lost with words. Truly speaking, after Aman's mother's death I had never thought to tie a knot with someone else. "I need time to think. Why did her husband left her?"

"She could not bear a child."

Kaushal's statement was simple, but it changed my whole perception toward Sonia. I had met her a couple of times before, discussing the projects designs. Every time she looked jovial, cheerful. Never thought her smile was  damming the river of grief.

"I can't force you, Animesh," Kaushal said. "But your decision can change fates of two persons. Aman and Sonia. Think about it."

Several doubts rose, then subsided in a moment. Several questions swirled, and in a moment I realized I already knew their answers. "May be I should meet her again. I'll think about it."

"You promise?" Kaushal said, his voice laced with hope.

I nodded, smiling. "And for God's sake tell me who is that friend that you were referring to?"

Kaushal's grin broadened. "Let's see what Aman is doing?"

We both walked to Aman. The lady was still there, clothed in yellow, her face still hidden behind her hair. She bend over Aman and offered a milky bar to him. Aman cheerfully grabbed it and hugged her, laughing. His happiness is the reason I live.

A strong gust of wind swirled dust around us. I shut my eyes, avoiding the dust to prickle. When I opened, the dust settled. And the lady turned toward me, shifting her locks of hair with her hand and tucking them behind her ear. It revealed her face. Sonia.

And in that splitting second, I made the decision of my life.