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The Messenger

'Gopi! What is that sound? Can you hear a clip clop?"
….just a branch tapping on the window pane I guess…

At eighty even a cold can keep you in bed, but I am not ready to go. Not yet. There is still work to be done. Builders are trying to get their hands on my lands. They will raze down the Haveli and chop down the orchards… I am alone…last of my line….

What am I living for? Wife and sons… gone. How many more deaths do I have to see? What is it that I haven't done yet?

Clip clop, clip clop…..I can hear it…a faint sound in the distance, but very clear…

The legend said, when the master of the house was about to die, he heard a clip clop of a Black horse, the messenger of Death. Have you come for me this time? Not yet….not yet!

“ Gopi wake up ! Call two servants. I need them as witnesses. Give me a paper and pen”

Clip clop,, clip clop….is the sound a little closer?

……All my worldly goods, I bequeath to my servant Mr. Gopichand Parmar and his children. I wish them to carry forward my work and look after the legacy of my ancestors…..

“Sign here please.”

….The sound is very close… outside… under the window…I can feel its echo in my heart …
clip clop ..clip clop….clip clop..

Wait! I am not done yet!

“Ah! Gopi, my never acknowledged son, forgive your weak father, but how could I accept you and your mother as mine? She forgave me. Will you?”

Clip clop …clip clop… clip clop…
Come my friend. I am ready for you now.

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