Remya saw them on the seventh night of Navratri. 

One of the most renowned physicists in India and worldwide, Remya lived and worked in a premier institute by seafront of Mumbai. On this night of Durgasaptami, while coming back to her apartment from laboratory, she stopped by the sea to watch the laser lights from distant revelries crisscrossing the sky as the half moon hung low over the horizon.

 
She was praying silently and most probably fruitlessly for the comeback of the man whose family name adorned the name of her own institute and many other establishments all over the world, from the nearby hospital where he was admitted last night, critically ill. Though Remya never met that great industrialist, visionary and philanthropist, she shared his love for stray animals and always nurtured a borderline crush for him. 

As the moon sunk, Remya’s eyes caught on a flock of white birds emerging from the horizon. She knew that certain breed of swans and cranes migrated at night, however these were different. Shining like condensed moonbeam, they were not really flying, but floating in the air towards the city, like iridescent boats sailing from another world. Impulsively, Remya made up her mind to follow them. Though her physicist’s mind continuously denied her instinct, she knew where these birds were going. As she drove her car out, the bustling metropolis was uncannily empty and silent, like an underwater ghost city. Air rippled like whirlpools of shiny liquid, the entire world eerily poignant with something impending.

Remya drove in a trance, following the flock gliding northwards. 11:29 pm, glared the clock on dashboard, and she finally saw the gorgeous swan, rising out of the white facade of Breach Candy Hospital. Pearly mist of moonlight still condensing into its shape, it spread its majestic wings, bent its long, handsome neck to cast one last affectionate glance towards the city below, and then took off in the air towards the ocean, eventually merging into the flock. Remya’s heart rang out in a feral mourn as the birds made their way back towards the horizon, and melted in the sky. 

Suddenly she was jolted out of her mourning by a car’s honk. 

Across the busy street, Remya saw a turmoil among a knot of cars and people near the gate of the hospital. She drove back to her institute, parked the car, turned down the engine and closed her eyes, tired from incredulity and sorrow. Everything seemed empty and sad, like the sky after a moonset. 
 

A sharp tap on glass broke her trance. She rolled her window down, and the uniformed security guard, asked in a worried voice, “You alright, Professor? I saw you getting into the parking lot an hour back, but you never came out.” She smiled warily at the guard, and switched on her phone. 
 

She already knew the breaking news that lit up the screen: “Joel Tata, industrialist, philanthropist, visionary, died tonight in Breach Candy Hospital at 11:29 pm, aged 86.”