Tuesday, November 29, 2016

Suddenly

It was not planned. It was a government office. A private sector bank representative was called in for some support. The person was supposed to come by 10. It was already 12. I was busy on my laptop. Three others in the room were busy in their own works. And then the door opened and she walked in. Just like that.

24 years of thinking about her, and she just walks in. It were as if there was a tear in the fabric of my universe, and she just appeared out of nowhere. We talked like two perfect strangers. If she recognized me, she gave me no indication of that. I wanted to hug her across the table. But that was not why we met.

Later, as we said goodbye and she crossed the busy road, my heart leaped at the familiarity of it all. All these years, and she still jump walked!

Sunday, November 20, 2016

Separation

I have worked on many scenarios in my mind. None of the scenarios actually ended up with I having you in my life.

The glaciers will have to melt someday, and so you will say. The ocean floors have to heave now and then, sending unforgiving waves crashing on to unsuspecting lives. Gravity, you would say, is the glue that joins parallel universes. And universes keep falling into each other all the time. Time is fluid. It is not a linear variable. Time is a different thing to a fruitfly and to a child on her winter holiday.

I have explored all your definitions. Not one defines closely, how it will be, when you are no longer with me.

Wednesday, November 16, 2016

Death and Rebirth

I have looked far into the winter mist. At the heart of its cold grey despair, I have found shimmering undercurrents of hope.

This winter derives it's darkness from my longing for you . With the first flush of my unbeing, you will be born again.

Allow me this death for I need you to be reborn.

Monday, October 24, 2016

Fading Away

How many memories can my mind retain?

I have seen clouds up close. They are really filled with nothing in them. Their undulating form of fluff is made of my memories of you. Their white comes from my happy thoughts of you. The greys are my desolation, the black, a drape of your absence, falling like velvet and drenching my soul.

Such magnificent shapes you make, scattered through my once clear blue sky.

End of Innings

Cheruvally Appachi (The aunt from Cheruvally) is about 86. She looks just as beautiful as I remember her from the time my grandma was alive a decade ago. Yesterday, we met at the wedding of one of her grandchildren.

As I hugged her, I could feel her tears drench my bald head and creep through my shirts collar. Her tears would not stop. Nor mine.

Great Aunt of mine, I want you to know, do not grieve for the time that is no longer there, for we shall meet again. This one was as your favorite grandnephew, the next will be as your son.