The Sound that stayed
The city of double summers, Chennai, never fails to disappoint with its relentless heat waves. Nights are unbearable without an air conditioner. Prakash was in his late fifties. He had been married for nearly twenty-eight years when he took voluntary retirement from government service to care for his wife, who was suffering from uterine cancer. She endured radiotherapy, surgery, and chemotherapy, while he stood by, forced to witness every fragment of her pain. His prayers turned into burdens—repeated pleas to the Almighty, asking only for an end to her suffering. When the cancer metastasized, the doctors quietly measured her remaining days. In her weakened state, her voice fragile and fading, she would ask, “Will I be alright?” With a tightening throat and no permission to break, he would reply, “Definitely.” After chemotherapy, she would crave ice cream. Everything else, she refused. Time distorted—days felt endless, seconds unbearably long. He struggled beneath the weight...
