The Broken Bridge - Part 1

It was around 9 pm in the night. I have put children to bed and took a book in hand. My wife Asha is still in the kitchen. I gave a smile, wondering what women keep on doing there. But never dared to ask her that for I don't have time to take it up in case she entrusts the tasks of the kitchen to me in anger!. A man's precaution. My phone rang. Reluctantly expecting another business call, I took the phone. It is the last news that I can expect. My hands started to shiver and panic gripped me all over. I throw ed the phone off, thinking it would let me not hear what I have been hearing on the other side. She is no more.
I know it is going to be a long drive to airport, which is almost now 2 hours journey from home. Asha wanted to come with me, but I told her not to as kids are already sleeping. But I was not sure if I could drive myself. So called the driver and by then started to get ready. As I got into the car, suddenly remembered something and ran inside to pick a thing that I kept for her for long. Was just waiting for her to come back. It is a saree that she pestered me to buy on her birthday.
By then Ram, my driver started to drive towards Airport. I know the flight would only reach by 3 am, but I was not in a position to wait any longer. There is a pain in this waiting. I have waited for her many times in the several years in the past. However, knowing that this is going to be final waiting for her, I wanted it to be long and a lonely wait. Distressed thoughts engulfed my mind and a heaviness surrounded my heart for the first time in the recent past. I closed my eyes in pain. She came as a wave with a smile. I could visualise her in front of me bidding me a final adieu. For a moment, I wanted the phone call to be fake, I wanted my drive to airport to stop, I wanted my thoughts to stop and I wanted my past, present and future to stop. But I know I do not have control on any of these. My driver turned back and gave me a stern look. Probably the few tears that sprang unknowingly would have been the reason for his surprised look at me. What he do not know is that my silence is actually awaiting a roar of trauma of a broken bridge. The river of tear is ready to flow beyond any control. Can men be also capable of such a emotionally disturbed state? I would not have acknowledged had I not come across this painful day. The day I realised that the person of my love is no more.