glorious, sunny day

He walked into their room.

It was a beautiful day, he had been out playing with friends for hours. The sun was shining, the grass was lush. It was that kind of strange day that could not decide whether it wanted to be hot or cold, and so it was a mix in between, nice cool wind blowing, the warmth of the sun breathing down upon him. As they played they truly basked in the sun, dhoop sekhna, as his mother called it. The golden rays infusing them with energy and joy, and happiness galore.

They were asleep.

His hair was matted with sweat, his chest heaving, he could smell the salt of his own sweat, could taste it around his lips. He walked into his room to wash his face. Dry it with a towel. They were supposed to go out in fifteen minutes. They had made plans for lunch. He got ready. He went back to their room. They were usually not asleep this time of day. They were usually very particular about being ready on time.

He shook them.

He began to panic, his calls to them becoming more pleading and desperate. He could hear his heart beating, it seemed very close to his ears, he could feel his footsteps thudding loudly on the carpet that usually muffled them. He took a few deep breaths, what if they could not take them anymore. No, no, no. He must not think of that. He called his chachoo. His dad’s brother lived close by, and he rushed over, his glasses askew, his hair ruffled, his shirt untucked.

They were breathing.

Slowly. Lightly. The man called an ambulance, he looked around while they waited. The boy just sat in a corner and cried. There was a thick grey carpet covering the entire floor, soft, warm, encompassing. Embracing. The boy just wanted to be swallowed up by it. He was confused. He did not know what was going on. There was a fat round red carpet with intricate designs of the traditional culture on it. Sunlight streamed in. The neon alarm clock showed that it was noon. The bed was big, both of them seemed tiny in it. Wooden frames, wooden bedrests, wooden footrests. They were both curled up, like in a really nice, deep sleep.

The ambulance wailed outside.

The uncle hurried to bring them in. He came back with two men appearing concerned. They took control of the situation, took the pulse of their new patients, and began to bring in a gurney with which they could carry the boy’s parents into the ambulance. The trays lay gleaming, breakfast half finished as the three men and the boy rushed outside with the two bodies. The smell of breakfast hung over the air, deep fried parathas, omelettes, some orange juice. It seemed very enticing. None of them noticed.

The ambulance wailed as it weaved through traffic.

The sun shone wide and bright. It was a beautiful day. Boys played outside, girls looked through windows. People just sat and basked in the glow of this glorious day. It was beautiful.