Works of RK

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!

It was a long day. Just like any other of my dogged working days. There was nothing in it that stood out. As my fingers worked on the keyboard, I could feel the words on my display suddenly blur. A shroud like silence stealthily climbed over me, surrounded me. The laughter at the workplace dimmed, the phones lost their ring. First the words of what I typed and then the screen fogged out. I found my hands quickly moving to cover my eyes, as if hurriedly cleaning them of some imaginary fruitfly. And as they misted over, I could feel the warm rush of my tears welling over. I looked around, and found that the other bay was empty. Thank God for small mercies, I thought, as you, suddenly, without notice, and without tact, deluged me, again. As I slowly tried to crumple myself into a discarded page of my poems, I found the whiteness of my handkerchief funny. I remember I had used one of these to tie your toes once. And as the tears fell without restraints, I  allowed myself to slowly an...

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.

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.

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.

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.

For the years my blood Has caroused Through these pens for you For the one hundred poems Through which my words Have called out to you. For the dreams you invade And the days you color And my being That you so pervade. For all that is soft in me And all that is white. For what I remember And for what I wish to forget For the last time we spoke And for all these years Of satin stained silent nights For the stars that still shine And for the ones falling Yet burning bright You have me And my dry Eyes. Also Published in Muse India