Santosh was standing on the balcony of Sahil's apartment. He was looking at the high rise apartments surrounding him. In a nearby apartment, a family of four was visible from the window. The father was playing with his adolescent children while the mother was sitting on the couch, looking at them lovingly. He tried to remember his past life. He might have moments similar to them. He tried to recall his wife's face.

He sighed and stared at the night sky above, where no stars were visible.

Time was slipping away from his hand. He tried to remember back to the day he died. It was blank. He did not remember the pain or even his feelings around that time. He just knew he had died. He had appeared in this apartment one day, and the only reason was that Sahil was the only one who could see him. When he felt like he would forget everything and disappear into oblivion, he met Sahil as a last strand of hope. Just like his name, Sahil became the 'shore' for his life.

Even though Sahil complained about his bickering, he would still listen to his story. He kept forgetting things. His memory was fading away. The feeling was not foreign to him. He felt he had gone through this phase before, but when and how he couldn't remember. A very important link to his life was missing from his memory. It was driving him insane. He never talked about it to Sahil, as it made him feel vulnerable.

Sahil got the reply he was waiting for. He had contacted Raghav, the cop Anthony talked about, a few days ago.

"I got a missing person report of a man in seventies. He had been missing for ten years. The names match, and the man also used to live in Delhi some twenty years ago. I am sending you the photo. Please check if it is him." Raghav said. He had a husky voice of someone over thirty.

Raghav sends the picture. It was indeed the cynical ghost. The man appeared a bit obese in the picture. Santosh has toned down a little too much.

"Yes, it's him. Did you say ten years? He had been missing for ten years."

"Yes. His younger son had filed the report ten years ago in Uruva... What a mouthful. I can hardly spell the name." Raghav paused, struggling to spell the name of the place. He continued, "Whatever, his son filed a report in some town in Andhra Pradesh. He is still looking for him. We couldn't have found the report if his son had not had visited the police station regularly for ten long years."

"He was missing for ten years, and nobody could find him for that long. How is that possible? He is not some child."

"Well, according to the report, he had Alzheimer."

"..." Sahil looked out towards Santosh who was standing on the balcony.

"We found his last remains from an NGO that was taking care of him for the past few years. I have informed his son about his demise. He will arrive tomorrow. Also, one of his caretakers will come. You can bring Santosh to the police station tomorrow."

The next day, they went to the police station. A man over forty years was crying bitterly while holding the urn containing his father's ashes. Santosh stopped midway. He hadn't seen his son for so long. He hardly recognised his son, who had grey hair, a fragile body. He couldn't remember how his son looked like when he last saw him. He hardly remembered any moment they spent together. He was riddled with feelings that he no longer recognises.

"Is he my son?" He murmured a faint utterance.

"...I will talk to him for you." Sahil offered to help. Santosh nodded and went near his long lost son. He was looking at him, studying the contours on his hand. It must have been rough for him all these years.

"Excuse me. Are you Santosh Uncle's son?" Sahil asked the man.

"Yeah. Did you know my father?"

"I did for a brief time." Sahil sat down beside him. "He was a good person, although he was cynical most of the times, he was caring and also a nice company."

"You really knew my father. Did he struggle a lot? Was he fine at his last moments?"

"I don't know about that. I knew him only briefly. I can tell you that he really missed his family. He had forgotten most of the things, but he never forgot about you. He talked a lot about you."

"I doubt he had anything good to say about me. I was the blemish of his life. He must have been ashamed of me."

"Well, he actually did not have anything good to say about you. But he was also not ashamed of you. I think you and him were similar. He did not want you to suffer like him. He could not support your dreams fearing you would fail. He still worries about you." Sahil paused, "I mean he will worry about you, even in death. After all, he is your father."

"Sigh! He never trusted my decision. He always looked at me like I was an immature child that needed hand-holding."

"Hmm. Can you tell me how your father got lost? He never told me how he ended up in the NGO, and his Alzheimer had taken most of his memories."

"Sigh! I don't exactly know what happened ten years ago. I had left home twenty years ago because of my spat with my brother. I really regret fighting on that day. When I heard about my brother's cancer, I returned home. When I came back, my father was lost that day."

"Sorry, I didn't get you. You left home some twenty years ago and returned ten years later, but your father went missing then."

"Isn't that ironic? Even when I think back to that day, it chokes me."

Twenty years ago, Santosh and his family left Delhi to live in their home town. After some time, his younger son needed some money for his filming career, a career he opposed. When his son asked for the share in the inheritance to invest in his career, naturally he was denied, resulting in a feud between the brothers. This led to the younger son leaving home, breaking off ties.

After some time, Santosh was diagnosed with Alzheimer. He started forgetting things. One day, he just got up and left home. His older son was sick and battling cancer. The family was already in chaos. His younger son returned home after hearing about his brother's sickness. He had left home by then and was missing. His older son died the following year. Younger one kept looking for their father. Ten years passed with no clue. Santosh had left home empty-handed, they believed he wouldn't have gone any far from the city. But who would have thought that all this time he was in a different city, half a country away?. They never found him. When they found him, it was his ashes.

Raghav had informed them that Santosh was taken in by an NGO who helped elderly displaced people, who were driven away from home.
A caretaker from that organisation came to meet his son. Santosh couldn't remember the man, but he felt that he was familiar.

The man was carrying some articles with him. It included a diary, a pair of spectacles and an old cassette. These were Santosh's belonging that he cherished. His son recognised the cassette with the markings on it. It contained a short film that he had made when he was still in College.

The diary had only one entry in it. It had the short narration of Santosh's life. All that he had remembered.

The caretaker told them that he kept the diary with him all the time. He would always read it, memorise it. He would struggle to remember them. Sometimes, he couldn't recall his name too. He even forgot how to read. His final years were getting difficult and difficult, yet he still insisted on looking for his son. He could not recall his son's name at all. His diary only had nicknames of both his sons.

The NGO tried to find his family. But they couldn't locate anyone. There were too many people with the same name. The house, he said he lived in, no longer existed. It was impossible to track down as he never owned the place under his name. Sadly, he didn't remember any other family member's name.

Santosh, after finding his family, except for not able to see his older son in his last moment, had no more regrets. He felt troubled after knowing that he caused his children so much agony. He did not remember how he came to the capital city, how he lived for the past ten years. His memories were hazy. He only remembered that he had been looking for his younger son. He was still looking for him in his death. He finally found him. He no longer wanted anything else.

Getting the cue, Aayna opened her pocket watch, and Santosh turned into speckles of light and entered the pocket watch. He did not want to bid farewell. He never liked saying goodbyes.

Sahil was placating the older man who was grieving the loss of his father. Santosh had lived a good life, blessed with filial children. But fate played a cruel game on them and separated a beautiful family. One who could have lived his life in the warmth of his home, suffered in the slums, with no penny, forgetful of even his name.