By Ritaja Biswas
(1)
''Don't worry I will be safe"
"Please stay safe I love you ok?"
"Yeah I love you more talk to you later?"
"Get back to me fast!"
"As you wish and order"
Who knew, only a order from general would get him back to her once again,
Who knew he would never talk to her later?
Who even knew that he would land up in a coffin just beside the living room tea table and the slushy sofa where they made so much of a chaos and love ?
"Don’t ask me questions,
Ask if I can answer all your odds"
Maybe she couldn’t answer him her chosen odds in this odd world of cruelty.
She only could imagine, him getting back to her, in her arms safe and heaven.
She saw his dead eyes speaking a verse of last fragment sorry as to why he never could get back, as to why he never would get back in her shelter.
She could only nod and shatter
She could only live and matter.
She left his corpse aside, took his torn diary where he kept records and never show her...
She only got out of that so not more worthy house now,
Read his words, only for her... a dead note in every inch of word.
She could feel his blood escaping his wounds in those bounded words that he left her..
And the last page,
"She should answer her odds correctly, She now is aware, what they are,
She now should be alive,
She now should keep her own words,
She now should help me breathe in this grave again..
She my fire, She my Query,
She my Quest which i may not have completed.
She has me completed, in me.
She now should complete me again, in living herself alive in line."
I don’t ask for an ending anymore for the even way out.
(2)
She smiled a little over her split tears tangled amongst her hazardous hair.
She came down to his funeral, just to witness, the fire-beats inside her.
She showed up wearing a Crimson Velvet saree, the pallu of which has his name imprinted.
She only wanted to let him know, that she still believes in him in his word.
She got haunted by memory lane where they worked through bias and discord.
She knew , she would walk again , again and again if she decides to stay alive.
She saw his mother breaking down and grasping for air beneath her strong fold.
She still so calm aroused questions and fear in the minds of his relatives.
She knew she had a diary of him for her, she would keep her words in these odds.
She may have died a zillions in that link of his glad sacrifice.
She still refuses to move an inch in that row to keep up.
She knows , knows how to blend and stay sane.
She happily could never accept her smile in the mirror.
And she says “ All I ever was , All I ever am, All I ever will be, is because I never was, I never am, But surely he stays here in me, and I may and will be his and his hearts’ still I meet him again in the depths of agony and ageing.”
She ruffled his mess hair even if he didn’t seem to stir from his deep sleep, And she says again “You are so like your dad when asleep”
(3)
When you part ways with someone for whom you cared that much,
You know , that wasn’t a half alternated path you would have chosen.
But then , there they made a twist in that disk of rotating thoughts.
He left her amidst odd and even razor and eggshells, and there the story decides to continue.
She, after all his one desire , was raising his million smile baby now.
The baby who shows up to just like his father and just love his mother.
His family growing once again in his presence of shadow and gloom.
The boy , grows up to be a great fighter once again.
Once again , torments his mother with parting ways abrupt.
But this time she’s calmer, she can bear loss for another time and finally give up, on his odd enough words.
She’s been a warrior too in this battlefield of dead soldiers and dead life.
She is only red washed , another tone of same colour, she will probably end up as a torn wallpaper.
And again one day,
“ Stay safe son, You know I love you, okay?”
“ I have always loved you more mom, ttyl?”
“ Sure, Come home someday, I will make your favourite Paranthas”
“ I will as fast as I can , keep the Paranthas coming, bye”
He never came home , He never saw her , He never got the Paranthas even.
The dead son, the dead father, what has this country ever got out of them, out of their lives?
She sat behind that couch, smiling preciously , proud to say “ like father like son”
And she says sane one last time, ruffling his hair falling apart her fingers “ You are so like your dad when asleep”
She could have lived on,
But she chose her balanced fall eventually,
She dropped dead from their 3 storied apartment in to the street, where she rolled along the cars and traffic.
And she couldn’t live the odds as they never left her.
If it would have been a nightmare, I would have stopped myself to write.
But its just a dream, A fall out stone cold dead deep dream , which lined up itself against the ink.