The time machine

Context: In December 2014, I was visiting my grandparents and extended family in Delhi. On the evening of Dec 18, I was at my Nanna and Pappa's house. We were all getting ready to go out for dinner, when my Pappa suddenly collapsed. It was his first and his last heart attack. I was six years old and I was in the room. My mother had (I think still has) a very hard time dealing with Pappa's death. She recently told me that she fought very hard with God to give her an explanation for why He didn't save her dad.

This story captures the essence of the dream that Mom got as an explanation to her why.

I miss you Pappa. 

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The wind swooshed through the room, picking up the curtains that had been yanked to the ground and trashing them against the wall. No one cared to close the windows, as a catastrophe had struck the family. Dark clouds hovered in the night sky, spreading their contagious gloom. The floor was covered with books with torn, wet, and crumpled pages. Leaves were whirling in a mix of colors. The storm raged on, leaving the room cold. It went for the girl curled up in the corner of the room, Leah, crying into the darkness.  

Leah’s howls drowned the storm’s brutal roaring. Tears streamed down from Leah’s luminous eyes, shimmering in the moonlight. Her large hazel eyes had turned a bloodshot red and her nose was red as a tomato. She decided to take a walk, but it took her an enormous effort just to get up and put on her jacket. As she walked through the kitchen, she saw her father sobbing silently.

“We can talk about your mother’s death if you want,” he quietly offered.

“I’m going for a walk,” she said, slamming the door behind her. The freezing night’s air stung her face. Leah heard birds cawing and insects chirping frantically. As Leah sniffed the petrichor, she turned into a dark alley. She looked ahead and saw a faint, glowing light. Abound with curiosity, she cautiously walked towards it and saw a round, enormous object. Scared but full of anxiety, she stepped into it.

She found herself in a large room with a desk at the room’s front, covered with computers and buttons. On the center of the desk was a time machine owner’s manual. After reading it, she saw a button, “Change any event you want. Enter a date and specific time.” Feeling apprehensive, Leah pressed the button and typed in a date and time two hours before her mother’s death. The time machine abruptly started whirring and then thumped on the ground.

The machine’s doors opened. Leah stepped out and quickly darted behind a tree as she couldn’t be seen during time travel. She was standing in front of her house. Vigilant and circumspect, Leah dashed inside and tippy-toed to her mother’s room. Leah waited for her mother to leave the room, because she knew what was going to happen next.  She sprang to the phone to dial 911. Leah’s biggest regret was that she hadn’t dialed 911 earlier.

“Hello,” Leah said frantically. “My mother is having a heart attack.”

“We’re on our way,” the operator replied. Leah hid inside a cabinet. She heard her mother’s footsteps coming back into the room and suddenly heard her collapse on the bed. Her father rushed towards his wife.

“I’m feeling a pounding pressure in my chest and left arm. I’m really lightheaded,” Leah’s mother moaned to her father. The doorbell rang. As Leah’s father opened the door, the paramedics barged into the room and asked everyone to leave. Leah kept hiding inside the closet. After what seemed like eons, Leah heard a nurse announce that they’d be taking her mother to the hospital.

Leah returned to the time machine and pressed the “Present” button. She couldn’t wait! She walked towards her house with butterflies in her stomach. Leah unlocked the door and saw her mother sitting on the dining table. But something didn’t seem right.

Leah’s mother was in a wheelchair. She was covered with wires and tubes. Leah could feel her stomach churning inside out at the sight of her mother. It was Leah’s birthday and her father had bought her a small cake. It wasn’t the grand, scrumptious birthday cake that her mother always baked. As Leah blew the candle, her father sang “Happy Birthday” for her. Leah’s mother could only make some grunting noises as she had also lost her speech along with her mobility. Leah desperately wanted her mother to hug her tightly and kiss her on the forehead, but there was her mother—motionless, with her head dropping to her shoulders, her eyes staring into nothingness, and her lips quivering with silent words. The next few days only got worse. As Leah watched her mother, she grew possessed with memories of their fun times together. Leah could no longer sit in her mother’s lap so that she could stroke Leah’s hair. They both couldn’t even talk or crack jokes together!

Leah tried to fight the truth inside her. Deep inside, she knew her mother was better off in a different world where she wouldn’t have to suffer. It became increasingly painful for Leah to see her mother in a vegetative state. Leah decided it was time to let go of her mother and of the tiny shards of hope she was hanging on to. Slowly, Leah pushed her mother’s wheelchair into the time machine. She kissed her mother a last goodbye and hugged her for a long time, wishing to feel her mother’s arms around her one last time.

“Goodbye, Ma,” she whispered hoarsely. Leah reached out to the “Set Back to Normal” button. She took one last look at her mother, gathered all her courage, and pressed the button with trembling fingers. The time machine whirred and Leah was left alone.

That night Leah sobbed harder than she ever had before. Her mother was now gone forever. But Leah had made peace. She knew her mother was in Heaven, not suffering or going through any pain.
The night lapped up Leah like her mother’s arms and put her to a deep sleep.