Right now ...

dashed
crushed
lost

trampled
trodden
sore

discoloured
damned
damp

You left

You left
Before I could you meet you once more
Before I could hear from you all that I ever wanted to
Before I could plant a kiss on your forehead one last time
Before I could hold you tight to feel the familiar warmth of your love
Before I could once more be soothed by the touch of your loving hands
Before I could get myself together and grab a chance to say one last goodbye

Becoming 'us'

Do you remember how we used to walk every evening down the lanes shaded with trees always taking the longest route home, talking incessantly, sharing our thoughts, laughing and feeling happy?

They all knew while we could not name our feelings. They all talked about us while we tried to pair each other with someone else. Then one night of celebrations, while dancing with another, we knew. Heady with unfathomable feelings we rushed to meet each other at 4am. We could barely meet each others eyes …we were trembling, we were giggling.

‘We knew it all along. Who were they fooling ?’ they said. We were too happy to protest. Too content to be beaming and staring at each other. Too blessed to finally belong.

Afternoon soiree

She stood at the bedroom door-watching mamma get dressed up. The combing of the hair into a neat bun, running of the pencil through the eyebrows, checking the lipstick was all so familiar. Mamma was going out - as she did most afternoons. “Be a good girl okay? I will be back soon.”
‘Don’t go mamma’ , she silently pleaded.

She felt the pair for eyes burning her back. The pair of eyes followed her as she went with mamma to the door. Mamma kissed her and went out. She stood there staring at the closed door until a pair of hands grabbed her shoulder.

“Let’s go”, came the hated voice. She silently marched off to her bedroom. “Hurry up".Tears dwelled up in her eyes as her clothes were taken off. “Now lets not have a drama ok. Lets enjoy it.’’

My son finishes a page of sums in a flash but takes eternity to do his writing work. I keep telling him, "Hurry up a bit ...how would you feel if you are the last one to finish in class....how would you feel if everyone finishes their work and you are still writing in the recess...etc."

One day in midst of the my lecture he looks at me and says, "Mamma why do you always want me to finish first? Everyone cannot finish first. Someone has to finish last right?"

A few minutes over a drink

They were meeting each other after a couple of years.. They had a less than an hour to catch up over a drink. Both with little time on hand, both tired with pending errands to be completed. There was a comfort level but a little akwardness too. The sort of thing that develops when your lives have gone separate ways, independent of each other. Yet you want to keep the connection going - in memory of what is was decades ago.

Ray fish