Are You Home Yet?

The fathers cracked open a bottle of whiskey last night and were high as kites. Surya came to visit and they were ecstatic to regale the youngster with stories of war and government policies. Occasionally, they forced him to eat a paratha, which he refused politely at first, then with a powerful NO. 

Your death has forced my family to fly in from Dubai, Chennai and Trivandrum. Our sweet neighbours from D block (Vaishali, Sony and Rita aunty) have finally visited our new apartment. My building friends have dropped in too. I'm confused. Isn't death supposed to be a period of mourning. Why does it seem like a celebration all of a sudden? Why do I feel like you'll suddenly unlock the front door, grab both fathers by the shoulders and say, "Daddy, Baba, pour me a peg too!"

The baby and I, have always had an active social life during the week just to bide time. I would introduce you to the husband of the newest mommy friend I had made and you would either grunt looking at the gentleman or make polite conversation. Your mood solely depended on your workload during the week. This week feels just like that. Something tells me, you'll be back home for the weekend any minute now. 

I somehow cannot forget the image of you lying motionlessly in a corner of Bombay Hospital. How easily you breathed your last without a forewarning. Your blue lips and closed eyes will forever haunt me. Your green office shirt had been roughly pulled off your chest for the CPR procedure. 

What were your thoughts in your final moments? Your boss said you wanted to come home. I want you home too poopie. This house suddenly has too many empty spaces. It scares and suffocates me. I can't stand it anymore. 

The boys have begun work on your album. I made Kiron share our pictures from '08, our first month together as a couple. It opened a floodgate of memories. Now I'll only have these glamorous pictures of you. You will forever remain young. You always convinced me that you were the better looking between the two of us. I agree. I'll age and look wrinkly.  You on the other hand, will forever be a dimply young lad with the sweetest face in the world. 

Didn't matter if you put on or lost weight, shaved or didn't, you always looked radiant. Your thick eyebrows, beautifully curled lashes and massive toothy smile were more than enough to light up any room you walked into. 

Riaan asked about you today as well, "Why has baba gone without his suitcase?", "Will baba come back?" and "I want baba in every room - my bedroom, your bedroom and the living room". I blinked in response. How am I supposed to play the role of baba and mumma now? 

Tomorrow I will stuff eight years of my married life and three years of motherhood into cardboard boxes. I'm running away from this beautiful house that you made for us, so that I don't have to look at aeroplanes landing from the baby's bedroom window anymore. I instinctively look at my phone to receive a one word message from you, "Landed". And the next second you would call, "Almost home. What chocolates can I buy for you from the airport? Ill pick up a toy for Riaan as well. Is he awake?" 

All these memories and more, will haunt me, till the day I breathe my last. Waiting for God to shine me up to you. You died a natural death. If I must find my way back to you, I must die a natural death too. I just hope it happens quickly.