Skip to main content

Forever

How long will you live Raj?

Forever Princess.

No really, how long will you live?

I was serious the first time babe, I will live forever.

Dog you are, can't you give a straight answer?

I did. You remember the time my grandma died, a part of me died with her. I know that I will never ever get over that loss. And then when I thought really hard about what I was going through, I realized something very important. I realized that every time I lose someone dear to me, a part of me dies as well. I know that in this long road to death, parts of me will die along the way. By the time they put me to fire, there will be very little of me left to burn ;-)

But you said you will live for ever?

I did. My grandma lives for as long as there remains a soul in my family who remembers fondly of her, and then she lives in the stories I will tell my children and my grandchildren.
For as long as they who love me live
For so long shall I too.

I love you Raj, do you?

I do Princess.

And you will tell your children about me?

I will, I promise.

Raj,... Then I too shall live forever?

Yes my love, you too shall live forever.
Forever.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Hush

You don't have to tell me. I just know. Its that little sniffle that comes through The unexplained pauses The slow responses I know when you call Just because you needed to cry.

Long Winter Chill

If I could do a Neruda, You would have smelt of summer roses And Autumn pine. There would have been sheer love Of the kind that causes our hearts to ache And loneliness bordering the divine. You would have had so many secrets Welling up as in a girly giggle And so few friends who would hear them all. I am no Neruda I can't paint you a Summer breeze Amidst this long winter chill.

That Fluttering of Broken Wings

If you were to cross the road and hurt your toe, I know that I will never know. As we go on to take different roads and move on across different shores, there is something that happens to our relationships. Something that estranges, disconnects, disintegrates. I know that you still think of me. I know this because I find myself thinking about you. And thoughts rarely get seeded on their own. It comes from you to I and from I to you until one of us is alive. Old relationships rarely die. Like broken winged moths, they hang around dark alleys of forgotten memory lanes. Ever so often, I can hear one of them flutter its wings. Not too close but never too far.