AFTER LOOSING HER...

Skin pale and white; as white as the bed sheet, on which she lay.
Face wrinkled; the folds seem to grow by the minute.
Drained of blood; life seems to be slipping off silently from her weak body.
Eyes closed, as if in a deep sleep; in peace with the world.
Hair scantier and whiter than ever; her age suddenly seems doubled.
Thin tubes running through her nostrils, lips slightly agape.
A wired clip on a finger of her left arm and an I.V. adorning it; rudely needled into a bulging blue vein on the back side of her palm.
My old woman was feebly fighting with death and we all know the outcome of the struggle.
I see no movement in her. She is as still as a stone.
The machine behind me is still beeping rhythmically and the quickly disappearing misty film in her oxygen mask is being replaced continually; I understand that she hasn't yet given in.
I walk away from her, stand at the window, looking out at nothing in particular.
"What should I do now?" I ask myself, "Whom should I turn to when I'm distressed? Whom should I seek when I need company? Who will be there for me, with me in this old age?"
Our fights, our reconciliations; Our arguments, our agreements; where would they all go now? Am I supposed to be content with memories, just memories?
I feel blank and numb, as I recollect the life I'd spent with her:
The beautiful girl, who blushed red the first time I looked into those pretty little eyes.
The wonderful lover, who easily slid into my arms when I sought her arm.
The sensitive dame, who shed tears when I was angry with her.
The passionate woman, who cried out of happiness when we were united in a wedlock for ever.
The crazy lady, who screamed and hurled things at me when she was mad at me.
The loving mother, who was the best my kids could ever have.
My best friend, my solace, my love and my everything.
Unconsciously, I smile as I remember every phase of our lives we'd had together-the good moments, the bad ones, the bittersweet times that we had shared-the first touch, the first kiss, the first child, the first house, the first car...the last kiss, the last breakfast together, the last fight, the last holiday... the first everything and the last everything.
I go back to her and touch the back of her hand, it is as cold as ice. I look at her face and am taken aback! Her eyes are open! Her lips are bent in a beautiful smile! She still looks stunning.
Without warning, the machine behind me suddenly emits a continuous sound. Alarmed, I shoot it a look and teary-eyed, I look at her again. Her pretty little eyes are still looking at me, lovingly and the mist in the oxygen mask clears out completely to reveal her smile.
Looking at her now, I decide: Of course! Her memories are enough to keep me going. She is not here with me, but her love is.
I bend forward, kiss her palm and tuck it safely inside the blanket, as tears stream down my cheeks.
I get up slowly, take my stick and walk out towards my children, who wait anxiously to abide by my wish to have a last few minutes alone with my wife!
Ironically, they turn out to be her last minutes too!!

I'M A MOTHER...

The moment I took him in my arms, the wailing stopped. It was replaced by a soft mumbling. He seemed to feel at home. The wrinkles on his face gradually softened, the frown between his eyebrows unknotted and his features registered a look of peace. He looked happy and at peace with the world. Tears ran down my cheeks as I realized that he actually knew the feel of my touch. He moved his tiny limbs feebly, unlike his earlier frail attempts to kick them frantically in the air. I didn't even know how long I'd held him. I watched on as the world's most beautiful thing fell asleep in his mother's loving arms. Right then, I knew that he is the most important thing in my whole life and the best thing that had happened to me.

We were together almost all the time. My thoughts, my world, my everything spiralled down, centered around him. I spoke with him, even though people reminded me, "he is a little baby. He wouldn't understand a thing." I paid them a deaf ear. "My son is far more intelligent than they know. He understands everything I say," was my stubborn notion. I played all sorts of silly games with him. I had spent every waking moment with him, marvelling at him, thinking what I'd done to deserve this wonderful gift. And when I slept, I had him beside me, held on to him, afraid to part with him even for the fraction of a second.

His first word was 'ma', like I'd always known and imagined and my dear little boy didn't disappoint me. The sound was like music to my ears, the sweetest thing I'd ever heard till date. I could not stop crying the whole day.

He took his first step and I clapped and jumped, pride filling my heart.

He curled his tiny fingers around mine when he slept and I thought, "I'm his saviour."

He fell down, got hurt and I felt a piercing pain that seemed to tear my heart apart.

He cried if he didn't find me beside him when he woke up and I felt happy that he missed me.

He went off to school and I missed him terribly.

He brought home an ailing puppy one day and nursed it back to health and I was moved at his kindness.

He brought home a trophy another day and I was proud of his achievement.

And then...

He brought home a couple to his buddies and I knew his horizon was expanding.

He never seemed to be alone, and I understood that there are other people in his life now.

I dutifully packed his lunch boxes. which were mostly returned uneaten and I struggled to make tastier food for him.

I quietly looked on as he drove away to parties with his friends.

I craved for his company as he hardly stayed at home now.

My heart leapt with joy when he occasionally smiled at me or when he gave me a peck on my cheek.

I wished I could be like one of his friends, and I could have some of his time. I tried to bridge the generation gap between us.

And one fine day...

He brought home a beautiful girl said, "Ma, I'm in love. I want to marry her." I looked at his innocent face and suddenly realised how quickly time has passed, how big my boy has grown. This was bound to happen and I knew it. I had always wanted it to happen. Yet, it wasn't altogether clear to me if I was happy or sad.

I was overwhelmed that he would now be a man, have a family, a wife, kids and all. Yet, the thought that another woman became a lot more important for him made a lump form in my throat. Does he still love me? I fought back tears- I wasn't sure if they were happy tears and plastered a smile across my face to show my assent, lest he would become upset with me. I felt silly, like a stupid little girl.

Joy twinkled in his eyes as he came closer to me and gave a peck on my cheek, whispered in my ear, "I love you ma. You know you are the best!" He looked at me, gratitude in his eyes. Of course, my approval does matter to him. He does love me, my dear boy!!! The best son anyone could ever have!!!

I smiled and this time, I'm smiling with pure bliss!!!

Inspired from one of the most loving mothers I had ever seen (my mother-in-law)

WHY DO WE SHED TEARS?

Why do we shed tears?
A doctor says that tears are some sort of secretions of Lachrymal glands present at the base of your eyes.
A chemist says that tears have anti-bactericidal enzymes that protect the eyes.
But, are they just that- some salty drops of water oozing out of eyes, keeping them safe?
May be not...
A mother sheds tears, while dressing the bruises of her child...that is love.
A father sheds tears, when his child receives a trophy for his hard work...that is pride.
A teen-aged girl sheds tears watching an incredibly romantic movie, looking at the girl in absolute bliss, in the arms of her man...that is fantasy.
A lover sheds tears, when she terribly misses the love of her life...that is yearning.
A student sheds tears, when he flunks an exam...that is failure.
A new bride sheds tears, while leaving her loved ones behind to follow her husband into a new life...that is affection.
A wife sheds tears, when she can't reach her husband and for no apparent reason, he isn't home yet...that is concern.
An old woman sheds tears, when her son finally comes back to her to take care of her...that is joy.
A prisoner sheds tears, when he realizes his mistake...that is regret.

Tears are with us in every walk of life, accompanying every deep feeling.
They show how much we love or care. They show how happy or sad we are.
They lighten our mood, make us feel better, while going through a tough period.
Tears are not something to be ashamed of. They are not a sign of weakness, but of emotion and passion!

YOU AREN'T HERE...

At first, there were tears
And then, when the reality dawned upon me harder, there were more tears
And then, there was this intense pain
Excruciating, stabbing at my heart mercilessly
Shooting through my veins, making me wince, cry out loud
For you aren't here to comfort me...


And then I was tired
Tried of all the crying, tired of the pain I'd been through
Surprised I'm not yet dead
Its now a void, an abyss, a nothingness
For you aren't here to fill me and complete me


I close my eyes, I drift off into a deep sleep
Not wanting to get up
I want to believe its all a nightmare
And I would find you here beside me when I wake up
But you aren't here to say in your calm quite voice, "trust me."


"It was a dream. Wasn't it?" I ask people when I do wake up, occasionally
They keep their sad lips pursed
The answer written on their faces
I go back to sleep, afraid to get up and face the music
For you aren't here to give me strength


People advise me to let in some fresh air
Take a short walk , feel the bright sun
But I want all the doors closed,
All the windows shut and all the shutters drawn
I want darkness all around me
I want to lose myself in it
I want it to engulf me, eat me up
For you aren't here to pull me out, lock me in your embrace, look into my eyes and say, "everything is gonna be alright"


I feel numb, feel no pain now
I neither laugh, nor cry
I neither sigh, nor do I smile
I'm dead inside
For you aren't here to make me feel alive


I had never had to think about this earlier
But now that you are gone,
I realize...
Your life was my life
Your death is my death


And then...
As days pass, the cloud begins to clear, the wounds heal
A thin ray of fresh light from somewhere enters
Bringing with it a new hope
A voice within me emerges from nowhere
I realize... that it belongs to you!


It smiles at me, soothes me
Guides me into a new life
Helps me build it anew, emerge from the ruins
A life, which is not as beautiful
But still, it is what it is... 'LIFE'


I slowly learn, all over again
To talk, to smile like a baby taking its first lessons
To laugh when something is funny
To cry when I feel sad
Its you and your voice that do the magic, once again
And I fall in love with you all over again


I finally learn...
You aren't here, but your love is still with me
You aren't here, but I still need to be
To love you forever
To remain here as a sign of your love
To remember you and cherish the memory of your existence
And... to live my life!!!




Inspired from the book P.S. I Love You (by Cecelia Ahern)

WHAT HAPPENS WHEN YOU FALL IN LOVE?

Someone changes your world just by coming into it
Someone lightens up your day just by giving you a smile
Someone makes you lose yourself with just a tender touch
Someone sets you ablaze with just a light kiss

You think about the 'someone' day and night
You crave to spend your life in the 'someone's' arms
You'd love to lose time looking into the 'someone's' eyes
You'd feel incomplete without the 'someone' beside you

It is a funny thing... this love
It makes you think, it makes you insane
It is a strange thing... this love
It makes you laugh, it makes you cry
It is a weird thing... this love
It makes you sacrifice, it makes you selfish

But...
It is a nice thing... this love
It makes you sigh, it makes you smile
It is a great thing... this love
It makes you want to live, it makes you want to die!!!

A SANCTUM IN SENILITY

The cool wind breezing through the window ruffled my hair and gently pushed it onto my face. I smiled, my eyes remained closed, as a couple of cool fingers touched my skin and lovingly brushed the hair off my face. I half-opened my eyes to look at them. The touch of the weak, wrinkled fingers seemed like the best thing in the world, for me, at that moment.
It was raining cats and dogs, outside. The streets were filled with water and the trees were swaying, as if dancing with merriment over the onset of monsoons. I opened my eyes and started bursting the little glistening water bubbles that formed on the window grills, listening to her soothing voice going on in its usual sing-a-song manner, as her fingers continued running through my hair. "...and then," she said, "you fell down and cried the whole day. I had to hit the floor so hard that there were cracks in the tiles and only then did you stop crying." She laughed and I looked up at her face; her toothless laughter seemed like the purest and the snow-white hair flying in all directions possible seemed the most beautiful thing in the world, for me, at that moment. I listened to her soothing voice, my head in her lap, as she went on narrating little stories about my childhood, as if they were the best things she'd ever seen.
"Is this what heaven is like?" I wondered. This woman had seen so much in her life, faced hurdles, fell down again and again, got hurt, yet, every time, she got up and fearlessly continued her journey of life.
Here she is, in the last phase of her life, full of wisdom, heart hardened with all kinds of experiences.
Yet, here she is, a little child bubbling with joy and enthusiasm unlimited, as she reveled in her memories of my childhood.
Feeding me, narrating stories of kings and queens to me, cradling my head in her laps, relaxing with me are the things that she enjoyed the most.
I was lost in my thoughts and then gradually dozed off into a light sleep right there in her lap and occasionally in my sleep, listening to her still going on and on about the first time she had fed me baby food or laughing at the silly jokes that I had cracked back then...


Inspired from my Grandmother, my friend, philosopher and guide, the best grandmother in the world!

ARCHAIC ROMANCE...

"We'll be back soon, mom!"
"See you grandpa"
"Bye, granny"
I stood there, on the porch, waving happily. He stood beside me, doing the same, smiling. My bigger children sauntered down the walkway, noisily, chatting, joking and laughing as their children- my grandchildren skipped and hopped around their respective parents. The air was charged and lively. I just caught a glimpse of my youngest daughter, who was now eight months pregnant, clasping her husband's arm as he led her on slowly and my eldest son slapping the youngest one playfully on his back and the whole group erupted in another fit of laughter, as they rounded the corner and disappeared.
Silence...
I stood for a few seconds looking at nothing in particular, smiling contentedly and turned to him to make some remark on how nice our kids had turned out to become. But the porch was empty. He was gone. I hadn't realized when he had gone in, so noiselessly. Didn't he share the wondrous sight i had just enjoyed? Or didn't he care?
A not-so-uncommon remark of my feminist sister crossed my mind. "Men," she said, "are emotionally dead human beings."
I walked back into the house, into the bedroom, deep in contemplation, to check on the twins. The twins- a boy and a girl, only a few moths old, belonged to one of my daughters. They were left behind under my care. The original plan, an evening walk for my pregnant daughter and her husband, when materialized, embraced everybody else, leaving out the two too young and two too old people in the house.
I stared at the twins sleeping peacefully, marveling at them, when I spotted a faint smile on the boy's sleeping face. I was overwhelmed. I hadn't noticed it earlier, but my grandchild had the same smile- the smile I had grown addicted to, after all these years. It was 'his' smile. Now, I looked closer searching for any other similarities between the little boy and his grandfather. There was a sound outside and when I turned back, I realized that it was soft music. As the much familiar notes filled the air, I sprinted into the living room. It was a mess-ribbons, balloons, remains of food strewn all over. The huge banner screaming, "WELCOME INTO THE FAMILY, TWINS!!! WE LOVE YOU!!!" was half trailing on the floor, its other end still managed to hang on to the temporary support on the wall. Amidst all this turmoil, he stood there, as if unaffected by it, oblivious to it, his eyes on me, smiling. Looking at his smile now, I was surer that it had passed on to his grandson.
"Remember the song?" his voice barged into my thoughts. Of course! Could I ever forget it? This was the song we loved to dance to. This was the song we had first danced to. Hell, this was the song we had ever danced to. But it was so many years ago. Back then, I was young, energetic, beautiful. Now, I was old, tired and well... not so beautiful.
I was so lost in my thoughts that I didn't notice when he had walked towards me and stretched out his hand and said the famous words, "Ma'am, dance?" His first words I'd ever heard, many years back. Then, I was a lot shy and hesitant. Now, though I was shy, I was sure and happy to oblige.
He gently took my hand, placed it over his shoulder and I buried my face in the hollow of his neck, feeling against my cheek, his steady pulse-a contradiction to an erratic one, back then. I felt his arms tightening around me, the same way as they had always done, as if protecting me from the world. The strength of his embrace was still the same. He held my palm against his and out fingers locked as we gently rocked to and fro to the rhythm.
I looked at his fingers and the back of his hand. The skin was wrinkled. I smiled. He was old! Who am I kidding? Am I growing any younger? I looked at his face and eyes were looking at me as if questioning my amusement. I kissed him on his cheek and said in whisper, "I love you, old man."
He smiled. "I know," he said and touched the tip of my nose lightly. I immediately wrinkled it, involuntarily, something in which, he found a great amusement. He laughed out loud and said, "you are cute" and I blushed.
It was all the same. All these years passed by and changed so much in our lives. The only thing that was left untouched was probably the way we felt for each other.
There were times when we had fought for each other, there were times when we had fought against each other.
There were times when we'd wanted to take a break from each other, there were times when we'd wanted to take a break from the world, to be alone with each other.
Some times we'd drifted apart from each other. But then, at the end of the day, we'd come home to each other.
We had laughed together, enjoyed the happy times together.
We had cried together, found solace in each other's company during the hard times.
All that we'd faced together had only succeeded in strengthening the bond that we shared. Nothing could ruffle it. Nobody could meddle with it.
I danced with him as always, losing myself in him, losing track of time.
I was shook out of my thoughts when I heard a noise.
"Looks like the kids are back," he grumbled, impatiently. I smiled and said slowly, still holding him tight, "I thought of cleaning up this mess before they came home."
He immediately broke away from me. " Don't ask me to help. I'm tired." And off he went. I gritted my teeth as I remembered another one of my sister's frequent remarks. "Men," she said, "are the laziest class of human beings."

PUZZLING CONTRAST...

How much ever I wonder
I haven't the slightest clue
To this day, I keep puzzling
How you do what you do

What is it that I feel so intensely for you?
I sometimes wonder
All these feelings get so confusing
And at times, they do bother

I'll never understand, how much ever I try
I have contrasting feelings for you, at the same time
And though they confuse me always, I must admit
They make me feel so light, yet grand and at times, sublime

Because you are so gorgeous
I look at you and I think I'm filled with vicious lust
But, surprisingly, its not just the desire that eats me away
I'm longing for something much more, which is better than the best

And then, my heart cries out of hurt, from somewhere deep within
When I see even a single tear in your eye
But I am much more glad
When its me you are crying for, because I know, eyes don't lie

One thing I know for sure
That nothing can ever tear us apart
Yet, I am so scared of the thought of loosing you
And this fear is very deeply-seated in my heart

Sometimes, you are amazing and you enthrall me
So much that I get tried of being just 'me'
At times, you are irksome and you enrage me
Yet, all I want is the happening of 'WE'!!!

AN IMAGE FFROM THE BEAUTIFUL PAST...

I felt a tugging at my shirt and I looked down. A little child was trying to get my attention, looking up at me and smiling. It was a little girl, with an oddly familiar pair of large, dark, lively eyes and an even more intimate, smile. I was baffled! The resemblance was stark and striking.
They were the same black eyes. It was the same innocent smile. They were the two things I first got attracted to, so many years ago.
I was still speculating, fascinated, when I heard a voice-a voice that keeps ringing in my ears to this day, almost every morning, every night, all these years. I couldn't believe my ears! It was the same voice! It was her voice! I immediately spun around and there she was, walking quickly towards me, looking at her child, anxious! No sooner had her eyes turned towards me, than she stopped dead in her tracks and as I had expected, her eyes registered surprise and awe. Or was she shocked?
Those eyes... gazing into which, I used to see my own image, yet, completely forgot myself, utterly lost myself in their soft gaze...That was so many years back. Now I'm seeing them again, looking at me the same way they did back then. Her eyes were still the same, large, liquid, expressive. They looked just the same, except for a vague trace of the apparently newly-appearing crow's feet at their edges.
Now, as she blinked, a dark curl of her hair swept across her face, brushing her skin lightly. Unconsiously, her hand raised to her face, and she twisted the lucious ringlet, between two of her long, slim fingers and tucked it discreetly behind her ear, gracefully, just like how she used to do when she caught me staring appreciatively at the curls of her hair flying against her face. Her hair...into which, I gladly buried my face, inhaling its dainty frangrance and played with it, feeling its softness...That was so many years back. Her hair still looked the same, excpet for a few grey strands here and there.
And now, I could see her lower lip trembling slightly. She immediately caught it tight between her teeth, sending a shot of pain across my heart. I wanted to run to her and rescue her lip of the menacing hold between her teeth. Her rosy lips...which always had an innocent, never-ending smile. Her lips...which had felt so soft and passionately receptive when I kissed.
She looked the same-exactly the same. '...except that she'd gained a little weight,' the logical corner of my mind tried to intervene. But my eyes and my heart proclaimed that she still looked gorgeous. For me, undoubtedly, she is the most beautiful woman in the whole world. If anything, her womanly grace seemed more beautiful than her frilly innocence. There was this mysterious dignity about her now, which looked like a perfect blend of maturity and chastity.
I, myself, was surprised at the reaction of my own body and heart to her presence. There was no hunger, no urgency, like before. But still, just like before, my heart still beat fast and galloped, threatening to jump right out of me, at that moment. And my body, though didnt show any signs of carnal desire, still craved for her soothing, reassuring touch, telling me silently that everything is going to be alright.
Yes! I wish she were mine. I wish she were with me now. I knew it was impossible. What I didnt know was whether she felt the same about me. I wished I could read her thoughts. I wished I could ask her what was going on in her mind. I wished I could talk to her just once.
She opened her mouth as if about to say something. And as we gazed at each other, neither of us noticed her daughter running towards her. When the little girl hugged her mother, she gave a start as if she woke up from sleep. She looked at her little child and again at me. Resigningly, she picked up her daughter and tearing her eyes away from me, she turned away. I wouldn't swear on it, but I thought I had seen a tear spilling out of one of her eyes, just like it did on that fateful day, many years back, when fate tore us apart. Through misty eyes, I just looked on as she walked away from me again, after all these years.