Several sleepless nights have passed by. Without you. The separation was inevitable, they told. I chose to think otherwise. A temporary period of separation, and a rejoicing moment of reunion, this was my expectation. If only I knew.
I remember the first time we met, a song, I recently heard, started ringing, “You’re beautiful”, and I mouthed. It was no way like what they portray in movies.Romantic bullshit. No violins, no flower shower. You caught me looking, no, staring. I stood there sheepishly, on the alley of a badly paved road. The boulder on which I stood, dilapidated, crushed under my weight. Humpty Dumpty had a fall. And I heard a laugh, the most musical laugh ever. I fell. I fell in love.
What happened later was quick. Alas, my aging memory. Tends to forget what I want to treasure the most. It is like pieces of a gigantic jigsaw puzzle, where I have some pieces, the rest, somewhere buried. The complete picture is always a challenge. The next visible piece of the puzzle is our Wedding Day. The Altar. The white wedding gown and the netted veil. Ahh, I didn’t like the veil (or was jealous of it); it covered the most beautiful face on earth. What stood in front of me was an amalgam of beauty, serenity and grace. The Father proclaimed us as lawfully wedded man and woman then. But you were already mine, the day we met.
Happiness filled our hearts. Our homes. You gifted me with an angel, the same pretty face. Blue diamonds, with blonde curls.Gorgeous.Rita, you named her. The later years drifted fast. Our relationship also grew old, with Rita. We drifted apart, like boats, stuck in opposite currents. Far from each other. I reminisced about the happenings of the yester years. A reason for the drift is hard to find. You were my wife, completely mine. Then you became a mother, her cackles and cries drowned my longing for you. We spent late nights together, now the only time you woke up late was to change Rita’s diapers. Or it was me, trying to make a living, raise our standards. Dreams had no boundaries. I worked. U termed me as a workaholic. Work was an excuse to run away, you yelled once, during our incessant fights. I wanted to deny. I couldn’t. True it was. The apartment size increased. So did the distance between us. A single bed we shared, but we had our own worlds, where we lay cocooned.
But now, I miss you. Your warmth. And the giggle, the smile which could light up the gloomiest of my days. Your smell, a divine concoction, of the fragrance of your shampoo, or those lotions, still tingles my senses, a chill runs down my spine. Regret. That is what I am full of now, for not loving you enough, for not cradling you in my arms, for taking you out, to that fancy restaurant down the road, where you used to hold my hand, and flutter, like a butterfly trapped in a human hand. The rest of the years of my life, are a castle of cards. A gush of wind and it falls apart.
The day you left me, all the thoughts came flashing by. The look on your face when I left early for work, or returned late. The wet eyes, when I asked you to go away, when you had come to show what you had so lovingly knit for me. The years you spent lonely in that gloomy house, after Rita left. Not in a lifetime could I repay those. It is very intriguing, how ‘love’, the eternal feeling diminished. Or not. Maybe it was just a phase, to make me realise, the girth of my affection for you.
Here I am, sitting helplessly in my wheelchair, counting the last few days of my life, in the big brick mansion .Pity.
If only you were alive, with me, would I have showed how much I missed you. How much I miss you. How much I loved you. How much I still do.