Kabir stood there like a statue, numb. He couldn't believe what he just had heard. He couldn't understand anything, he was looking at the old man with blank expressions, then crumpled on the floor and started crying like a baby. His knees went weak, almost collapsing and sweating. All he could imagine was a bright and happy face that used to laugh and tell stories about adventure with shining eyes and now he was dead. That bright face was gone.
"How did he die? What happened?"
"His drinking killed him. He was killing himself at every moment of his life and now he is gone. Gone forever. I was supposed to take care of him. He was like my own son. I knew he was suffering and I couldn't do anything. I know I did everything I could but only if I could have tried a bit more, but still, that couldn't have been enough. He had lost all hopes to live. Here I am, watching my son, my friend, my only family laying on the floor in a pool of his blood. My care was not enough to save Azaan. That was never enough." The man was crying his eyes out.
Kabir froze. He froze in front of a man who has lost someone more like a son to him. He froze at the thought of the face that brought him here. Should he console the old man sitting there cursing himself? Or should he just run away and just never come back? Or should he just hide somewhere in the corners of the world? But then where would he hide, where would he run away to and till when he should run, or whom should he console? This is when Kabir heard a voice.
"You should have reached out to him. You saw he needed you but all you did was to abandon him. Did you call him your friend? You were the worst friend. You reasoned yourself leaving him when he needed a friend the most. So what if he screamed or was rude that night, you knew it was alcohol speaking, not Azaan. You listened to your fragile ego self-respect and you left him. You could have reached out to him and now you regret it. You should regret it because that's all that is left now. Your friend is gone. You are responsible too. And now when a friend is gone, all you can do is to regret." The guilt finally won over the reasons. The reasons surrendered and the guilt took over.
That was like a nightmare. All you can do in a nightmare is to hope that you will wake up soon but till then, you will have to see and feel things that you don't want to. That pain may be just for a moment but the moment feels like an eternity. Where you feel like the ground beneath your feet has slipped away and you are sinking every passing moment. It was a nightmare for Kabir and he was walking through that never-ending tunnel filled with darkness echoing with dead silence till a voice came, a sweet voice piercing the very silence of that moment
"Oh, dear! You have run a lot and now look how tired you look. Sweating and weakness in your bone and you will collapse now. Stop now baby and come back. Come back to where you belong. Come back to place me and I will give you rest."
It was a familiar voice but Kabir could not recognise whose it was. It was not the voice from before. Whosever it was, it was calling Kabir to itself and all Kabir could think about was the innocent and loving face of his mother, care and concern on the face of his father, a friend and companion that he found in his brother and his flock of sheep. All he could see was the sweet face of his grandma. Kabir wanted to sit on her lap and sleep. He wanted nothing but to rest. Kabir stood back, held the old man by his arm, stood him up.
"I'll have to perform coast rite rituals for him so that Azaan'ssoul rest in peace. Can you come with me please. These villagers were never there for him and I doubt that they will be there. Will you come?" Said the weeping man.
Kabir nodded. They arranged everything and yes very few people came to the last rites. All the houses of the village were decorated, petals everywhere and kids playing and people distributing sweets and families getting back together for supper.
The two men went to Azaan's place. The house was still dark and strangely cold as if the house was dead and rotting but then, it was dead since the lady of the house died. The house was still all messed up.
Bottles and clothes were there on the floor and there he was lying on his pool of blood. Azaan was white, his skin cold and his lips were scaly and dark. The chillum was harsh to his lips. The young fine man was turned into a pathetic creature who punished himself every single day and now he was free, free from all the suffering
All that old man could think of was how everyone used to love Azaan and how was always surrounded by his friends and then, how he was left alone to suffer and to die.
A week has passed since the demise of Azaan. The tea shop was opened after the second day. The old man was sick due to sadness and disappointment so Kabir had to take care of work all by himself and now after a week has passed, the old man came back. Kabir used to make cups and the man used to make tea. The demand for the kulhad tea was increasing and so help was kept for helping alongside Kabir in making kulhads.
"It's been a month since you worked here and I appreciate your devotion to work. You are doing an excellent job." Said the old man one day as he handed a pouch to Kabir.
"Here is your first pay and I have something extra for you here. It is for helping me and supporting me in the difficult times."
Kabir opened up the pouch and saw a brass necklace with a dark red stone on it. The stone was not the brightest one. It was a little dull with too many inclusions but it was finely cut.
"This is the stone of sun god. Azaan once gave me this stone. It is called Manik And these inclusions and imperfections on the stone, are the real essence. They are unique for each stone and so gives each stone a different and unique identity although they all are the same. After Azaan gave this to me, all his troubles started. I know this is may not sound quite sensible, but I always felt like this was made for Azaan and when he gave it up, he gave up his good fortune and that's why I never wore it. And now, when Azaan is gone, I would like to give this Manik to you. You remind me a lot of Azaan. You don't need to wear it if you don't want it, it's just something that I wanted to give you."
Kabir didn't have any intention to wear it. All he wanted to do was to earn more money and then return to his village. He didn't want to go anywhere else. The dream of finding the city of red roses vanished off his head. He wanted to earn so that he would not feel embarrassed returning to his home and facing his father. He wasn't sure if having pockets full can ensure that, but it seemed better than returning empty-handed.
"People came asking if we make vases too. So I was thinking if we start making more complex and higher value things too. I can make vases and I have made a few too. If we can sell them for a good price, then I think we can start making more of them. There is not so much competition in the market for us, so what do you think?"
"Okay I think it's good. I will pay you 80% of the profit we make. Is that fair?"
"That is good. I'll paint them today. They are just simple, nothing too artistic. So I'll just go get some paints brushes for them."
The vase was a great idea and they were all sold, Demand grew in the market for those things and soon the business grew and after about 2 months Kabir needed help. He taught them how to make vessels and pots from clay. Later the artists were hired to make those vases more sophisticated. Traders saw this surge in demand. The man and Kabir made a good fortune. They generated jobs for a few other villagers too. Kabir always thought that if all this success is just because of the luck that the stone brought but then, the stone owned the old man too. People sometimes don't want to acknowledge luck. They are ridiculed when some credit for their success is given to luck but it does exist. Situations sometimes favour some people and sometimes it is against some. So yes, there is such thing as luck but in long run, luck is like a river that contributes to the sea of dedication, passion and most importantly, faith