In spires of undwindling memory,
And in the hallowed memorials of time,
Things come to me as a pollen lands back on its own flower,
With tiny spruced dew drops and a footfall of lime.
The elemental symphony shed light,
as I clutched upon the creaked door,
And felt the wood seep into unkempt strings of cordless empathic links,
That still bind me to this chasm of tales and lore.
And as I stood there,
The maple which was once alive spoke to me,
I heard voices, I heard Amplified emotions, I heard familiar lullabies and I stopped hearing.
In the distant past;
‘Dad! Higher! I want to go higher!’ Said the little boy as he savaged the joyous entity, and threaded into his mind an invisible concoction of umber sanctity and undeniable togetherness while he swung.
The tree captured the gullible emotions of the family of three who had come out there to celebrate, while they expected a fourth one to come out soon.
Have you ever heard about the infusion of lavender into mistletoe, and how the herbal tint of petunias blossoms out lifeless shreds of undead souls and create an aura of happiness. How, even its existence propels out even the liveliest of the disturbances. And how all of these descriptions do not add up to how uncommonly happy all of them were.
There is an external grace and compassion in how to light up smiles on the faces of your dear ones,
And more over, there is a feeling of togetherness that binds humans very vehemently.
With winds of joy laden sanctity,
crumpled leaves leaving impressions,
Did roads to odes of melody open to upstage the irrevocably subtle scene of the riverside.
Two swans moved together,
And the underwater life lit up the serenitical fission of sweet sights,
‘Honey, pass me down the luscious bites of sweetmeats, Abhi and you just gulped down so raunchingly!’ The sweet lady in the beautiful pink sweater naughtily teased.
Her loving husband moved closer to her, till their breaths hummed the same lullaby and put his ear on her belly stroking it lightly,
‘Hey Elena! Baby, how’re you. It feels like I can almost touch you. I bet you’ll be as beautiful as your mumma. Abhi, Come say hi to your lovely sister. Feel her breathe.’
Aft that we realise, how little moments like these become defining epitomes of unfathomable memories, that make one go down the trail to nostalgia and apparently appear in a No man’s land.
As the scene shifted to 10 days later,
‘Abhi! Don’t run away from me, son. It’ll just be 2 months and I’ll be back. I always do. Don’t just turn away. Edith, tell him, tell him not to.’ Edith, stood there clutching the chair, emotionless.’ I can’t believe you’ll miss the birth of your daughter. Have you not any sense of responsibility for your family. It’s always the Goddamn army you put first. Do we not mean anything to you.
I can’t believe it, Harv. Don’t go.’
Harvey stood there on his knees for a long time. He went to Abhi’s room,’ Abhi! Open the door. Let me hug you goodbye. Open up. There’s nothing I can do, son. I have been called for an emergency.’
‘ No, I won’t. You don’t have any right to hug me. You’re selfish. You only think about yourself. You just came back 15 days ago. All my friends have doting fathers. They say they are their heroes. You’re not my hero, dad. Go away!’
Harvey could no longer contain all these emotions. He picked up his bags, and for the first time in his life, he didn’t kiss his wife goodbye before leaving.
It’s very disparaging to see a tear float,
And it eats you up eventually,
Leaving behind your kid and wife,
It’s the starting of the yet to come rifes.
Your heart seems empty,
Gaping holes make you bleed tears,
And somehow the sun doesn’t luminate the spruce shaped speckles of fears.
Walking down the lanes of the partridge oak of my home,
It’s tough to look back,
The only fear is of not being able to see someone wave you a bye heartily.
And with a heavy heart, I continue to walk the road that separates me from people I love to take me to the strangeness of unconditional emptiness.
Two months had passed by, and Edith was due; Abhi rarely came out of his room, still angry at his father, and an irrevocable unexpected news came. Lieutenant Harvey Clive was killed in a combat zone 4 days ago, the army mourns his death.
Lieutenant Harvey Clive,
A patriot. Son of the nation.
A loving father. A good husband.
As the waves caressed the tiny shreds my leg bore its weight on,
How sauntering melodies intercepted the stillness that hung cold to mourn,
And sudden surges of anger swept like wild tides,
Unpacified by sheer pragmatism and tears to hide.
Sometimes, life teases you with prospects of hurting you hard,
Blemishing and tainting you with pain and anguish as deep as an empty card,
I didn’t know what I had done to be treated like this,
Somehow I wanted to cry out loud,
so loud, that’d bring back people from the existential shroud.
Somehow this is the time when your mind spots you to be at your most vulnerable,
And Deep down that heart, you look for a questionable reason,
Because somehow some people infuse meaning to your life,
And when they’re taken away from you,
All that is visible in a room full of darkness is a tiny shred of soulless entity with no emotions in the heart, leaving you rue.
Unexpectedly, there is a bulge of memories that hit you,
From wiping a tear off placid expressions, to warm hugs and undue feelings so few.
And as I see how the Sun lost its sheen into mere non-existence through shrouds of quissential quietude,
Tears spill through pores of my already wet eyes,
Paving way through uncertain paths down my cheek,
And diluting its essence as it moistened down golden quadruplets of the sand under my feet.
Suddenly, this scene brought me back to where I was originally,
All I could say out aloud was ‘Dad’ quite emotionally.
( External note: Edith couldn’t bear the loss, and lived an empty life for quite a while. Another news that struck hard was her unborn child was a stillborn.)