On a fine morning, she died
–like in the chick flicks, and ‘don’t-know-how-to-end-it’ romance novels.
Like her, It was a rare disease that took her by surprise,
It wasn’t her choice – it would never be
had she had the chance.
This was her first and only time she fought and lost a fight.
‘cause she always got what she asked for – even in love,
Her eyes were the first to sparkle, and ask and that’s how it started between us.
I wouldn’t lie –Looks did play a part – she was gorgeous, and after we fell in love,
She was the most gorgeous woman in the world – even when she was laid to rest.
We began to talk all the world we knew,
and with surprisingly’ Born & Lost & found again’ twin- like qualities,
we both regretted that we had lost a hell lot of time -
From the cradle itself – and we had to make up for all of it
And spend every moment we got –together.
She: 'Are we silly? ' Me: 'No, We are beautiful people! '
We had made, lots of plans –
Unspoken and yet we both knew.
‘cause we believed in dream lands and Wuthering Heights
Ancient Classics on the radio, poetry, Victorian novels and less television,
More moments together in silence, deeply smitten;
In all, we wanted ours to be, the best love story ever written.
We bought little gifts from whatever change we had in our pockets,
Strange items from the 1$ store –an Angel made in China
– targeted at us types – sold, accepted with a smile;
musical greeting cards –which got me my first kiss,
and I started to give her a card every day;
and roses that were always not fragrant or fresh enough.
Remember Love letters? – There was always something to write,
exclusively handwritten with a fountain ink pen on paper – folded,
posted into a large red box called the post-box;
and we waited in thrill to read our letters that reached us a day later...
–we had all the time of our lives.
We were both often tongue-tied to say anything at all
after a ‘hello’ on the phone.
Her voice did that to me,
and she claimed that my boorish grumble did that to her as well.
And..there was getting drenched in the drizzle...
–blame our books if you want to, we wouldn’t;
Our Picnics in the meadows, home made cookies (her mom made them) ,
Sipping green tea and watching the clouds pass by.
As time flew and we noticed,
we now talked about the right time to get together-
To turn the house i owned into our ideal home - that’s thankfully hard to locate
by our ‘convenience, cash-borrowing sake’ friends;
‘Cause we were selfish, and we wanted each other for several more years.
In a so called modern world where everything and anything old worldy
was not in anymore,
We laughed at the diabetes epidemic that infected the cultured minds,
And we happily indulged in the sickeningly sweet ways;
-We didn’t give a damnation. “Jealousy! ” She remarked. I agreed.
We spoke the same words; and rarely thought or talked differently,
‘Cause - She was me and I was She.
In all, the ‘uncool and unreal’ stuff on hallmark channel
–suspended reality of today based on Lost values, Frozen in time
and Memory (again, an old line) -
We believed in the old fashioned thing called Love. - Pity you!
After her death, it was like the end of times,
like in the books;
Birds sang sad songs;
The little squirrel that came down for bread crumbs waited for her
And left disappointed; the flowers drooped their heads in mourning for a few days
– so, It was all real!
I snapped out of it all, and brought the world back on its feet,
The world needs to go on, in spite of me.
The life that used to be for us and around us, came back to life.
As comforting words stopped from friends;
I continue to live with her- her memory,
And I begin to build the dream home we wanted
Slowly she started to appear,
No apparition, or ghoul or ghost - but actually her
As she quietly watched and smiled, and was all around when our home
Came to life.
The chrysanthemums and tulips for the garden;
Bird baths and bird houses;
A French window that opened into the woods;
No electric fencing ‘cause it’s dangerous for the animals;
No bloody television – the outside world doesn’t change for good in 24 hours,
and the morning paper was enough;
Ah.. the fireplace – the moments we shared, just looking deep into the fire
In deep embrace, feeling the warmth and our hearts beating together
To the sounds of wood splinter and crackle – i retained the fireplace as it was.
She wanted her own black beauty – a gorgeous stallion
and a pickup truck; our dreams grew on and we had to work harder -
to bring our picture post card aspirations to life.
A loan that will help take lease of the used books store in town and turn it into a library
- our humble idea to have a regular supply of titles.
We were always realistic in our world – believing, hoping and loving.
We could open the books and relive the stories again,
Dream the lost dreams-channels have re-runs, don’t they?
I got it all happening, God’s grace,
‘cause we would never like our dreams to fail,
while I still run the bakery – going on the same way.
The pastries are missing something – customer complaints
for which I know the answer
but cannot explain the ‘missing ingredient’ to them.
We never kept diaries, ‘cause we remembered whatever that mattered to us
and that was enough.
Her dreams, our dreams and our life was all that mattered – love mattered.
And that was enough.
Conversations happen now and then
with the people I occasionally bump into and
as usual, they talk as though they were always there to care –
Them: “Are you seeing someone again? You have to move on! ”
Me: “Sorry! Wherever I go, She goes.”
“I shan’t betray her memory! I feel her in the wind when I walk;
“I feel her, see her in everything I touch”;
I feel her comforting me, giving me company in my aloneness! ”
I would live and die as her beau! ”
Them: Frowns. “They were never in touch with reality! ”
“Thank you. For once we agree, I didnt believe in your reality.”
We never asked anyone to believe us or in what we believed in.
I continue to dream and build our home
-The fire had died out, but the warmth hasn’t.
The winds still carry her beautiful songs,
They might bring them back to me after every bird has learnt it.
I wake up in the morning, and look first at her face,
Her eyes closed in sleep, and the little smile on her face,
I can feel she’s still dreaming.
The books we really loved always ended
with ‘Then, they lived happily ever after.”
We are living, happily, ever after.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.