Deny That Greed

SNEAK A PEEK

The cemetery was crowded by relatives, mourning and weeping at the sight of Josh's father's soul ridden body in a casket being slipped down into the family graveyard. There were prayers, chants and hiccupping's of old people who were related to his father in one way or the other, many of them in deep thoughts of when their time will come. Josh was silent and droning in saddening thoughts.

He didn't know whether it was his true feelings or due to the magic of the books, but he was sure that he had undeniable emotions vibrating inside him for Sarah. There was nothing better to happen by him denying it. Whether it's his lover or any other person, it would never be right to get them killed for his personal greed. He wished he could caress her face at least once, or a small peck on her nose. But, he could never want to be the reason for her cursed future.

He believed, he still had time to amend for the past actions. He came to London, knowing that Sarah would be there as per the information provided by her grandma who still lived in the same city. But he reasoned for his stay in London with his consciousness that it was for the job and the pay which were excellent.

As he pondered over his decisions and regrets of his past, an old hand with wrinkles came upon his shoulders. It was a reassuring pat from his uncle. They both stood few step behind the crowd. They all flew back to India to hold funeral for his father and bury him alongside his mother. His father was completely stuck up on her throughout his life anyways. At least this might please his soul, or so was his thought.

The memories of both his parents were faded and black and white. His father lost the hook of his life upon his mother's death and in no time, took up on drinking habits. He was growing old and vulnerable in a big house filled with darkness with a child growing up at the sight of his father, drinking and crashing things. In a vain attempt of comfort, one day the child approached his drunk father with his tiny hands open, for a hug, but was yanked away. The child hit his soft head on the drawer when he fell back.

Being overwhelmed with guilt, his father decided to join a rehab and the child saw his father for the last time while lying on the hospital bed with bandages around his wounded head. After living with his uncle's family for two years, his father came back to get him and they once again lived in the same house, this time, with no alcohol.

His father never hit him again but neither did he ever hug him or tell him that he loved him. The colors of black had left their house, being replaced by brown and quietness, filling the house with only the ticking of the clock. His father was devoted in his upbringing throughout his life and provided him with all his material needs in order to redeem himself from the guilt still inside him, rotting him away bit by bit. But he believed "I AM NOT CAPABLE OF LOVE."

Josh sat down with the two cups of tea, one sugar free, by the table in the veranda. His uncle was waiting there, sitting on the other side. He patiently waited for Josh to settle down, while watching insects suck the nectar from the garden flowers.

"I used to be jealous of your father…" he started. His eyes went through flashbacks of his youth and continued his mournful words. "When I was about your age, there was this woman I liked, whom I wished to make my life partner. But our father gave the magical books to your father as he was the older one. I didn't manage to win that woman's heart but your father married the woman he wished to marry. It was more than just envy that I felt. Unknown to my own morals, I cursed their life a million times. But soon, I became a spectator of the downfall of your family, your happiness and your bond. I still feel a heavy rock of guilt over my head. Now, I have a wife, children, and grandchildren. I am so happy and would love to die because I am at my happiest moments of my life. That book wasn't necessary for me to find happiness. It is just a show. It makes you feel like you will soon be happy but it slowly drags you to your own hell. Mind my words, son."

He had his hands over Josh's and the same fatherly gaze which he had been seeing throughout his life. He sighted, feeling tired of all his thoughts and regret panging in his heart. He asked a question overwhelmed with the last hope. He knew that neither water, nor fire can even bring a scratch on those books.

"Is there any way to dispose off those books...?"

"They can't be completely destroyed but they can be kept away from future use." By the look of the curious gaze from Josh, he asked

"You didn't know? If either of the books are buried six feet under the ground, along with its previous owner's mortal body, It's magic will be compressed and won't harm the next generation."

Josh gave a doubtful look. His face said 'That's a load of bullshit!'

His uncle conformed the fact using the following story.

"It is actually said that, the merchant who brought these books had them buried with him, after seeing the destruction of his happiness. He did so, to protect his children. The books were later stolen by a thief who wanted to steal the gold assessories on the dead body and most probably, he is our ancestor." He chuckled at Josh's bewildered look. That was expected. "What? Did you think you are from some great, rich merchant family? Hahaha."

Josh sighted once again, gulping down the new piece of information along with the tea. He stopped after a short sip, sprang up from his seat and mumbled "I'll be back soon…" He dashed out of the house with his sweater and car keys, roared the car engine to life and left for the cemetery. He stopped abruptly by the church which had its side facing the cemetery and ran for their family cemetery spot which was the plot brought by his grandfather back in times.

Every families with membership in that church had small pieces of land here as their family burial. Josh quickly noticed workers plopping down their tools for covering his father's burial. Soon, it will be covered in cement and marble, with his father's name written fancily alongside his dead ancestors. He ran to them, huffing and puffing. This trauma had to be ended here, today itself.