One Laugh Less

Photo for representation only

I have wedding album from one of my many marriages that did not work. Buried in there are smiling faces of friends and relatives who had attended the ceremony. Like many chapters in my life, this too passed almost a decade and a half ago. Today, I am scared of opening that album. Most men and women who could laugh an unrestrained uncouth villagers laugh are dead. They dropped out of my life over the years, without much noise, most without good byes. Every time I see that old photo album, I remember the laughter that I miss in my life.
Most of my loved ones now stand forlorn, as coconut trees, untended, uncared for, in some corner of large tracts of land which now remains barren. We are now dwellers of large cities. My village postman could not compete with the Dominoes delivery boy. He too is now gone, but not before a final whoosh of laughter from his toothless creaky betel stained mouth.
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PS: As an ancient Hindu ritual, we plant coconut trees at the spot where we bury the Ashes of our loved ones.

4 comments:

  1. @ WFL and TOSM:- Thank you for your visit and comment. This is a difficult topic to write about.

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  2. Here we are, today looking at the times when those men existed. Time plays strange games.

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