‘Baby Pictures
‘Look at this, Dan. It’s from back when my dad lived with
me,’ Lar extended the photograph towards his friend. It was an old photograph,
the corner of it half-torn, but the picture meant a lot to Lar. He was sitting
on a wheel- cart with his father standing behind him, his strong hands on the
handles, pushing him slowly down the hill as 4-year old Lar laughed as if it
was the happiest day of his life. It really was, as that was the last day he
saw him.
The two top criminals of the country sat together on the
warm floor on a hot July afternoon, little photographs scattered all around
them. They brought back so many memories- good, bad but mostly good. The
sunlight peeped through the small window, as Dan carefully scrutinized the
picture his friend had just handed out to him.
‘You look awfully like your father,’ Dan commented slowly
after about five minutes.
‘I wish I didn’t,’ Lar grumbled. A particular picture that
lay at one corner of the ‘bed’ suddenly caught his eye. He crawled towards it
and picked it up with his rough, scarred hands. A long sad sigh escaped his
lips as he stared at the picture of his mom and him. It was the day he was born
and it was the day she died. He traced his mother’s face with his thumb, his
throat burning with the tears that refused to form. His mother was smiling,
even though she knew she had only a few more hours to live. She held him so
tight, so lovingly. Did she know his innocent son would turn out to be the
person he was today? Did she know that one day at least 50 families all around
the world would want him dead? Did she know that her husband would leave their
baby alone in the streets and never come back? Did she know?
‘You shouldn’t say like that dude. He’s your father,’ Dan
broke the silence.
Lar’s blood began to boil, his hands shook terribly. He
scrunched up the little photograph in his fists. ‘He left me when I was 4. He
is the reason I became a criminal. He is the reason I am here today. He is the
reason I am getting…’
Lar couldn’t complete his sentence. The guard was standing
behind the bars. It’s time.
Lar was taken into the shower room and then he was given
fresh white clothes to wear. It was now time for him to walk the longest walk
of his life- a walk that ultimately had no end. The room was now in his sight,
the rope, which was nicely tied into a loop for him to place his head, clearly
visible. For a moment, Lar wished he hadn’t placed a bomb at the kindergarten.
But the guiltiness was gone in an instance. He remembered the picture of his
mother and him, and he knew he was going back to her loving arms.
‘Do you have any last wish?’ the man asked before he put the
black cloth around his face.
Lar smiled. ‘Just make sure that when you bury me, you bury
my baby pictures with me. I wanna die with a few happy memories.’
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