Condolence to a mystery !

Few men are real yet enigmatic.
Independent and alone; Indistinguishable in crowds.
He was one such man. ...
His life divided into two parts.
Or rather cut sharply into two
Not knowing when the split occurred.
One part becoming the opposite of the other.
Yet both in one man.
The first part rare in humility
and the second rarer in mystery.
He came to this part of the world
Not to return back to his roots.
Some say he was disappointed with somebody
But he kept this fact to few unknown and to himself.
Held silently a grudge against himself.
Quiet as a hill, not moved even by dying relationships.
Why was he angry I do not know
But he was I know this much.
His simmering anger made him unapproachable.
People feared talking to him though was always civil.
He changed addresses randomly to escape people,
Somehow he never escaped his fate.
He must’ve vowed never to return home.
A prayer which was always going on somewhere in his heart.
And for two decades he didn’t.
But eventually destiny takes one to the place
Which one does not want to visit.
It was time for him to leave this part of the world.
The escape was at last not inevitable.
It was time for him to revisit his roots.
There was great turmoil within his heart
It broke him beyond his fathoming.
And he passed away with the agony within.
Somehow his prayer had been answered.
And the enigma laid to rest.
(R.I.P. Salman bhai)

With Kids, Without You...(II)

As weeks have passed into months,
And the lurking fear of more delay hunts.
Restless thoughts, with a prudent conduct,
Lest it may show and kids may confront.
Household chores are done as usual
Now with a demeanor more suitable.
Sleep now comes without much thought,
I am satisfied as I’ve freed myself from a clot.
Kids are in their usual world now,
Mischief is at bay, as new books don’t allow.
Last week Mummu did mention ,
You’d be here had there been no extension.
I accept it as a part of our life,
We will reach there but only if we strive.
Kids seem not to disarrange me
I love them, they let me be.
Impassioned with these thoughts to get away
We all are moving together, as together we pray.
More days will pass away, come more days like these,
With kids and without you, till we all wait for the changing breeze.

The Belated Greeting Cards

Come Eid or a birthday in the family, there is a greeting card from a wonderful person that always kept coming; My early memories of these cards are when I as a 7 year old kid watched my eldest sister receiving her share of cards along with letters which her husband would write to her, as he was an Engineer on a ship and led a professional sea life and was away from his family for long periods of time. She would look at the greeting card, run her finger over it and then keep it to her side and open the accompanying letter to read it. While she quietly read them, I would often pick the card from her side and looking at it, would marvel at the picture and then at the words which he wrote in his beautiful handwriting; each alphabet would be quite measured and would be delicately woven to give in to his thoughtful expression to greet her on their wedding anniversary, her birthday, Eid and many other such occasions. My parents would receive their Eid card from him. As I grew, I came to know through my many relatives that they would also receive an Eid greeting card twice a year.
His greeting cards have remained a very poignant part of my childhood and adolescent memory for long that I still remember a few ones. As a man of shipping, he traveled across the globe. The greeting cards would be picture post cards bearing the pictures of the popular and famous structures of the cities of the world. There would be other beautiful ones worded with love and care. He would send those cards when the ship on which he was working would be alongside and he would get a chance to buy those greetings and post it to his loved ones. From where ever those cards came, all of them exuded love and extreme warmth. While wishing a person he would keep that person's qualities and good things in mind and write to make it very special for that person. In hindsight when I I imagine those cards, I find him sitting in his cabin of some ship, in the middle of the sea, thinking about his wife, children and relatives while writing them. Isn’t it something to think about that though he was alone and must have felt lonely while writing those greeting cards, his handwriting didn’t waver. It was always the same – even and uniform, giving insight into his strong mind while he wrote them. Yet, he must’ve been smiling while writing them, as I could see all those receiving and reading them, smile. For about a decade I read those greetings while growing into my teens. My perception about him always remained the same – He was a man who believed more in giving than receiving. Away from his family he wrote countless greeting cards irrespective of whether they were answered back or not. They never stopped coming. There was never a complain in his writing. He was alone for a large part of his life, away from the very people to whom he wrote those cards but his writing never indicated any loneliness though he must’ve been very alone. Time passed and he moved from the sea life to a job as he had wished to and would say ‘want to do a land job’. There was no dearth of opportunities for this brilliant man; While leaving the shipping job he said that he was tired of the sea life and need to move to working other than the sea. He grew professionally while working in Jubail for seven years, yet his tastes remained simple – good food and the longing of his loved ones. Life was changing everywhere for everybody, postal addresses changed for many, but no matter the change, his greeting cards reached everywhere.
Year ‘1992’ changed the way I looked at relationships; it was the year in which he passed away in a car accident. It was the holy month of Ramzan and he passed away while driving back home from his office. We were expecting him to join us for Eid later that month but God had other plans. My sister moved to Hyderabad with her children for his burial which took place four days before Eid. While people were celebrating Eid everywhere, we were thinking that had he been alive he would be sitting with his beloved family, eating his beloved food.
I have always maintained that pain doesn’t dissipate, it just stays there and becomes numb making us immune to its presence in us after a while.
Four days after Eid while we were going about our lives trying to fathom the impact of the sudden tragedy that had struck us, the door bell rang. My sister who was standing near the door opened it and saw a postman standing there. He had a bunch of greeting cards in his hand to deliver and he gave those to my sister. She took those cards and sat in the chair near the door and sobbed miserably. We all reached to her and took the bunch of letters from her hands. While giving away those greeting cards, she said that these are the last ones, even these have stopped now. Those were the greeting cards he had written before the accident and had posted to literally all the family members. We had received them after his passing away. I still wonder, had he not passed away and had been with us that Eid, he would have seen the smile on our faces which we always had while reading his greeting cards. The greeting cards did stop coming but what has not stopped is the good wishes that he had prayed for, for his family, through those greeting cards. People pass away and what remains of them are memories unique to their personalities. Times have changed and nobody writes letters or sends greeting cards. But for me the memory of the greeting cards will always be attached to his beloved presence in our lives.

My Random Thoughts...With Kids, Without You

One month has passed without you.
A first in about 20 years.
One month with two younger ones,
A first in all these years.
The taste of a single parent,
Sweet only and not an ounce bitter.
The taste of being without you
Is a numb feeling with me.
Days filled with office work,
With a nagging thought, ‘how must be kids at home’
Would call you to check if they are well.
Now calling them up to check and relieved to know they handle it well.
Especially Mummu, I know she takes care of her younger bro.
Ibbu, I know is a bit difficult, but has not shown his naughtiness yet.
Must be thinking of not making it difficult for Daddy alone.
You would call during my office hours asking what is to be prepared for dinner,
Is changed by morning saga now …preparing their breakfast while I shower and dress up for the day.
Lock the bedroom without fail, there is a large window and a balcony that they may go there.
The security of an absent home-maker fills a house that is quiet most of the time.
I then rush to turn off the cooking gas before leaving the kitchen now.
Keep the breakfast on the table while I sip my tea often cold now.
Remove the food from the fridge for their lunch before I leave the house.
They are still sleeping and I am saved of saying good bye to them.

My mind with them while still in office.
The water bottles need to be replaced.
Remind them not to open the door for anyone – known or strangers.
Rush to return back in the evenings.
Pleased to see the house clean.
Mummu knows I like things to be kept in order.
Ibbu also helps.
They wattsapp to their mom and elder bro in my absence.
I see the transcript and much relieved.
Then come weekends time to dine out.
It’s odd to sit in the family section without you.
But cannot see an embarrassed Mummu sitting in a room of men alone.
Yesterday she asked for an Abaya.
Time flew so fast..never realized it.
Come to supermarket, clicking a selfie for you.
They smile at the camera for you.

In their beds at the usual time, I tuck their sheets
They say the prayer you taught them
I kiss them goodnight.

All the while I imagine you moving in the house
Doing the things I am doing now.
Love of them has made it easy
Necessity of daily lives has made it possible.
Before going to bed I think about you.
2563.3 miles is a distance not big to feel.
It is the relationship that makes me feel.
We live for many things,
Bound by love, the distances shrink.
Sleeping in between the kids,
While I think about you.
Ibbu turns on my side and keeps his hand on my chest.
I keep my hand on his.
And before my mind can think more,
I look in the mobile to set the alarm.
Tomorrow will be another day.
More time has to pass away,
It will somehow beyond my fathoming
And there will be more memories to write
With kids, without you.

The wrinkled man

Hidden in these wrinkles is a long tale.

A Laughter that didn’t escape his lips,

Tears that didn’t roll down his cheeks.

Remnants of sighs that are held in his heart,

Impending sorrow that hid in his eyes.

Too long this phase has lasted to end now,

It will stay where it is destined

In the inner recesses of his heart.

Behind him those winters

Yet chilling more to come.

Hidden in these wrinkles

Is a person nobody knew.

Soliloquy

The world will give you pain,
Come on, let us console our hearts again.
Thinking about those who mattered,
When in need, a passerby, a stranger may come again.
The impressions of dark circles beneath his eyes,
Is a tale of waiting for those who were not to be seen again.
He had made his move and sighed,
But the game of chess is spread again.
The connect is lost, and so is the body;
The restless soul is captured in chains again.
Fluttering in agony in the hope to free itself,
Have hurt itself, and may not repair again.
The cage has become his desire,
Through which he could see, only a longing again.
Listening to his soliloquy, a friend asked,
It is still an alien feeling, express again.

Moments alone at Sunset.

The untold moments:
His fingers were dancing on the keyboard while he wrote reams of pages. His thoughts about his own self and about the changing time. It did not bother him if he was typecasting himself in a negative light. He had to write and so he did. Unrelentingly. And then there came a moment when he stopped typing. There was an abrupt silence in the surroundings. I looked up into his eyes, and saw a long story welling up in his eyes. He could not write further. Moving back with the chair he had moved away from the world now. He picked up his bag, his glasses, checked his mobile and walked out of the door, closing it behind him.
Together, alone: 
He didn't love her any longer; he had always known this but today when he spoke about her he realized it all the more that he was holding on to the cracks of the relationship from widening further, but for a very long time he didn't look at it as it had crumbled in his own palms; he was just holding on to the rubble of his life. He still stood with her, not as a companion but as an error that had cut his life into two halves. There was no show of consolation of a mutual feeling and if it ever existed from her for him in return, they didn't care any longer to look at it. He had failed, they had failed but still what emerged from this rubble were the little buds which would bloom and make his life worth living. And he in fact had lived for them.
Salvation at sunset :
Neither had he come to conquer nor to make his mark. He had come to wipe off the marks he had made in his last visit. He rubbed the mirror incessantly. He cleaned it and what he saw of himself was far different from what he once was. He saw an old, withdrawn image of himself which reflected that at last he was at peace with himself. Peace came, though late, as he now realizes, comes after many winters and in his case it came at a time when no sense of loss bewildered him any longer. He forgave those who had hurt him and apologized to all but one for having wronged them. The one who would never come and he would wait till eternity for that moment of forgiveness. He opened the last window and saw that the sun had already set. Leaving his spectacles on the window sill, he closed his eyes and feeling the cool breeze gently strike his face, he said to himself, ‘Do not despair, as I am coming there soon and you won’t be alone then.'