The Window.. a story

      The monotonous rut of the daily routine had been broken. The often trodden path seemed unfamiliar to him. The lowly life of a labourer was now insignificant. He would now return to the land he belonged to. All had chosen to stay  behind and remain a part of this lowly life. He had dared to break free. It was scary even at his age to find a way to the bus stop. The one which was his very own key to freedom. The bus stop was deserted, but for a hawker or so. In the distance he heard of the familiar rumble of the bus, which graced the town once a week. Every week he would simply stare at it, just wishing to break free and catch the ride. It had taken him quite long to muster the false courage, he had tucked in somewhere deep to make the decision finally. The bus came to a halt in front of him. He had it all chalked out to finest detail, after all he had been planning for this all his life. He picked up his ragged bundle of belongings and clambered up the rickety bus steps. He glanced around and found a window seat. A blessing. Now he could sit and be as nostalgic as he wanted. This was where he had spent all his living years and now yearned to visit that place before he died. The place of his ancestors. Eyes closed and the gentle breeze was all what it took to doze off.

        The monstrous hum of the engine starting, brought him back to sense. The bus had revved up for the journey that lay. The window seat would surely be of help, had his stomach dared to rumble. His mother had told him of the place of his ancestors. His mighty ancestors who were once a name to be feared. The gentle lullabies he had never heard came beckoning today only to be thwarted. The bed time stories, his little head on his mother's lap and the hut of a house they lived in. All came beckoning. The vivid picture his mind had painted of the sprawling mansion of his ancestors The way his father boasted of the lush green gardens that surrounded it brought goosebumps. His ancestors had been great people. The ancestral land where all were fed and slept hungry. It was one of those days when his father couldn't bring home a penny, his mind feasted on the lavish luxuries of his ancestral mansion. The river that flowed by and its crystal clear water were alive in his heart. It was a sight to behold when his mother described him of the paradise they had to leave before his birth. He knew he would one day get to see it all. To own it and bring fame to the name of his ancestors once again. All of his 84 years, he had painted the exuberant picture over and again in his heart. It was now, that finally he could and would touch and feel his dream. Soon, he thought. The window of the bus gave him glimpses of dusty roads and rundown buildings as it made its way to the promised paradise. It was not what was supposed to surround the paradise of his ancestors. But no matter, it would come in time. The heavenly abode. He closed his eyes  with a smile on his face.

     The bus came to screeching halt as the conductor threw a cursory glance over the empty seats. All but one were vacant. The old man's destination was here yet the man had not stirred. The conductor made his way to the window seat and nudged the old man. And it was the end. The man was no more. Dead with a smile on his lips. As the conductor signalled the driver to drive on to the nearest morgue, the window slammed shut. The last thing one would have seen through the window was a ruin of a rundown building which once could have passed for a mansion, surrounded by a river of filth. This was it. His ancestral home.. Still in its former glory, permanently etched in the dead man's smile...