Ghosts

You never believed in guardian angels or ghosts,

Yet, you came back to make me take an oath,

To keep living,

You told me to be a little more forgiving,

To keep breathing,

You indicated that you were leaving,

In the most serene manner,

You looked so happy, that I didn’t have the heart to clangour,

On and on, about why you shouldn’t leave,

You had made up your mind, you always wore your heart on your sleeve,

In death and in life,

I must understand as your wife,

You shared all your secrets with me in life,

That’s the least you can expect from me now, even if my heart is riddled with strife,

I must let you go,

So that you can continue to grow,

In the soul plane,

Until we meet again,

I know we will meet,

I'll recognize you, even before we greet,

Thank you for staying back, for a month more,

It must have been quite a chore,

But I'm so glad that you did.

Souls

 I can read about souls all day long,

But the feeling of being broken is strong,

I know we're immortal,

And that we're here to pay off karmic debts, but I'm still a powerless, foolish mortal,

It's difficult to digest the reality of my life,

One where I'm no longer a wife,

I miss you,

Memories of you,

Flood my head,

Like a brisk horse drawn sled,

There is no escape from you,

However hard I try to shoo,

And quieten down,

The erratic beats of my heart, that now closely resemble a ghost town,

I want to "move on",

I now you'll lead the way, even if you're physically gone. 

Gone

Contrary to popular belief,

Souls infact feel no grief,

I know the exact moment you left our forever house,

And the exact moment, you decided to leave me, without a rouse,

You asked, "Can I go now?",

In that familiar sing-song way, and didn't bother waiting for a final ciao,

You closed that door for me, even as a soul,

My decision making abilities you stole,

In life and in death,

I saw that plant stand, you had your eye on for so long this morning and I felt my breath,

Turning laboured and slow,

It had a beautiful glow,

I wonder if you would have liked it,

We were slowly building an indoor garden, bit by bit,

You're gone, even as a soul,

You're not my husband anymore, you've donned another role,

I wish you well,

I pray this time, you have the ability to quell,

Wrong doers who pose to be your "well wishers",

Who love you for you, instead of being heartless fishers,

Of your precious time and hard-earned wealth,

I only wish them ill-health,

And often wonder why such venom are still alive,

While you still had so much left to live for and strive,

I'm letting you go, just as you have let me go,

Whichever house you're reborn into, I hope they know,

They've got a gem of a soul,

Honest, loyal and hardworking, with an insatiable love for rock and roll,

Bye pupu,

I hope we meet again, in another time and life, to continue driving each other cuckoo,

You will always be my first love,

But I think it's time to stop being a mourning dove.

I’m Okay

There are four stages of grief,

I think I’ve experienced them all, it still doesn’t give me relief,

What now?

Just keep breathing I suppose and keep my head down and plough,

We had a happy life,

Given all the ups and downs, I hope to meet you in the afterlife,

Will you be around?

Or would you be Earth bound?

I’ll know for sure only in death,

I owe all my breaths,

To the baby,

Once he’s settled, I can see you maybe,

Would we be husband and wife, in the afterlife too?

Or would we have to woo each other once again and start anew?

Only time will tell,

Until then, let’s wish each other well,

I’ll always love you,

Even if you’ve forgotten me and baby boo.

Malling

Malling without you,

Is an experience that is brand new,

For both Riaan and me,

Doesn't help, that we keep passing Home Center, Starbucks, Miniso and Hamleys, among the sea,

Of other brands,

Only the brands you frequented and loved, stands, 

Out and tall,

As we try our best, not to bawl,

The baby mutters endlessly, "Baba, maamaa and me, came to the mall",

While I shake my head absentmindedly, with my brisk walking slowing down to a crawl,

A feeling of breathlessness takes over,

I'm unable to run away from it, however hard I try, to take cover,

The day before you died,

We had gone to R-City mall. We tried,

Shopping for you,

But you groaned and moaned and told me repeatedly, that shopping was a chore and that you felt out of place and blue,

In that moment, your happiest place was being at home, 

In front of your laptop, your eyes a vigilant comb,

"Tomorrow's meeting is super important for me",

I nodded my head, nestled cozily on your lap, those were our moments of calm, minus the naughty bee,

I knew you were stressed,

I felt far from blessed,

To live with a husband who was always snappy and on the move,

Your death only went to prove,

That nothing and nobody is worth your peace of mind,

I wish you learnt to unwind,

I have no one to take me malling anymore,

I'm all alone, forever more. 

Waves

It hits me in waves, your absence,

It kills me, this melancholic silence,

You were always hesitant to reach out to me,

When I was filled with an anger, that was this beastly,

I suppose there are no brownies in heaven,

And you’ve finished all your lives on earth, a total number of seven,

So you’ve forgotten how it’s like to be human,

Or that I was your “main poopie bird” and crewman,

Obviously my aching heart or the fact that I’ve fallen apart,

Holds no meaning to your fresh start,

As a soul,

I’m sure you are on leisurely strolls,

With your friends and family in heaven,

Your child’s obsession,

Over your absence,

Is certainly not eating into your conscience,

You haven’t visited us in days,

Is this your way of telling us, that we’ve forever parted ways?

Can I not expect anything from you anymore?

Are you truly no more?

Are you not cheering me on?

As I struggle to get out of bed each dawn?

Are you not holding your son’s hands?

As he slowly understands,

That you’re forever lost, in time and space,

Without a trace.

Numb

I have moments of being numb,

Where I stick to just being a mum,

From one toddler meal to the next,

Your son's food demands have me hexed,

I have no time for you anymore,

Thinking about all the stupid decisions you took, is anyway such a chore,

Haven't dreamt of you in a while,

Perhaps the very thought of your death, induces me with bile,

I'm filled with moments of calm,

But I know, the feeling is merely a ticking time bomb,

Mundane conversations trigger memory flashes,

Then I painfully recall, that I have already dug out your ashes,

You are in peace,

I know this for sure, because I'm finding the strength to put together the pieces. 

Garlanded Photo

It felt unnatural to select a picture of you,

Excluding me and baby boo,

Throwing a garland or ten on it,

Had me in splits,

Because you looked ridiculous without us,

In the midst of all that marigold mess,

A photo like that indicates your death,

But you’re still alive, in all my breaths,

You dwell inside my anger and my pain,

And all the other moments that have me feeling drained,

You’re alive,

Beyond a silly looking photo frame, 

Every wall inside my parent’s house has our wedding photo,

Each time I glance at it, time stands motionlessly still and slow,

It’s impossible to forget your crinkly smile,

And your smelly fingers, that I haven’t whiffed in a while,

I held your hands for as long as I could,

Before you went up in flames for good,

But that doesn’t mean you’re dead,

Your soul has merely fled,

 Your mortal being,

Forever compromising my state of mind and well-being,

I miss you, 

Infinitely more than Po misses Master Shifu. 

Unfulfilled Dreams

Thirty five years and one month old,

You were a sensitive, young man with a heart of gold,

Your career moves were bold,

Which automatically made you a little cold,

Your ashes are nice and cold for sure,

I wish, you had reduced your work tours,

I also wish you paused, to breathe a little,

And absorb the material things you amassed, instead you let your heart go brittle,

You ran behind all the wrong things and people,

Who successfully kept you on an artificial steeple, 

I feel bad that you never got to drive your BMW X1,

Or raise your son,

Those were your dreams,

I won't bother fulfilling them, by any means,

I have different dreams,

Your death has automatically put us, on different teams,

Rest in peace,

That's the least you can do, after robbing my son and me, of our peace. 

Barbecue Sauce

Our weekly trips to Pizza Express,

Came flashing in my head, as I ate American Garden, Barbecue Sauce mixed with cucumber, I must confess,

My taste in food,

Has aligned with yours, for good,

I made fun of your obsession with gourmet restaurants,

And your favourite snooty, eating haunts,

But I long to go back to them now,

Secretly hoping to catch you eating your favourite beef bao,

Unable to hate you, however hard I try,

You are everywhere, in a bottle of sauce and my tears that have gone dry,

How can I hate an irrevocable part of me,

You will forever be inside me and our little bee,

I want to run away from you,

But your crazy laughter is stuck inside my head, like a stubborn piece of glue,

I want to hate you,

I really, really do,

I want to forget and forgive,

But I’m filled with a void, I didn’t want this life, one that I have to live,

Without you.

Moving On

I won’t move on,

Like a graceful little swan,

You’ve made me fall from grace,

By vanishing without a trace,

I’m replacing my love for you, with anger,

So that you can no longer commander,

My private thoughts or fester in my headspace,

You were so caught up in an imaginary race,

That you failed to look at me, even once,

And made decisions like a dunce,

Your death caused me pain,

So did your life, now I want you out of my veins,

Get out and stay out,

I’m going to hate you, for the rest of my life, I know how to lookout,

For myself and my child,

I did it, even when you were alive and running wild,

You selfish, selfish man,

I wonder, is this why God gave you such a short life span?

It’s Time

There is still beauty in my life,

Other than being your wife,

It's time to stop crying,

And pointlessly sighing,

Over what could have been,

Or what should have been,

It’s done and dusted,

Even your ashes, that I dug out, must be well adjusted,

Inside the Banganga Tank,

If I have to be frank,

I only have myself to bank upon,

I doubt my tears, have provoked, even a simple yawn,

From you, while you sit tight in heaven,

I’m no longer that naive girl you married at twenty seven,

I’ve come a long way,

Since then, I will no longer allow your death to weigh,

On mine or my child’s mind,

It’s time to boot you out ruthlessly, from our hearts and minds,

I don’t know, if you could have fought your death,

What I do know is that, my child and I have many, many breaths,

To live and re-live,

So it’s up to you, to stand by us spiritually or just leave, I think it’s time to sieve,

The lifetime I spent with you v/s the vast lifetime I have left,

Time to let you go and unburden my chest.

Baggage

I’m being “advised” to behave in a dignified manner,

To stop my dead husband clanger,  

To keep my private life, private,

But your death was hardly private,

Every strip of my dignity has been shred, along with your last breath,

By you, your “well wishers” and your untimely death,

I can’t be dignified and I won’t apologise,

For all the lows, highs,

And the in-between emotions I’m feeling,

I’m not healing,

Not even a little bit,

I can’t “cool it”,

I know you’re not coming back,

But I’m secretly hoping, my anger will have a ripple effect in the soul plane and hit you with a smack,

I’m sad,

And my sadness is driving me mad,

So spare me the judgement,

And stop monitoring my movements,

I’ll live the rest of my life,

The way I want to, I’m answerable to no one, except my son, who will also move on with his life. 

Waiting

Sometimes I catch myself waiting for you,

Our life right now, is not so different, from what it was while we lived with you,

After all, it’s only Monday through Thursday,

You’ll be back on Friday,

We’ll have lots to do and say over the weekend,

Fights to fight, gourmet food to eat and friends,

Lots of friends, old and new, to meet,

Especially Riaan’s friends, those chance encounters, where I found myself taking a backseat,

He’s a chatty one,

Our little one,

Definitely taken after his appuppan and me,

It fills my heart with glee,

To watch him bond and play,

Best thing to do, is get out of his way,

That’s been our week and what about yours?

Yanked open a few more doors?

In the oil and gas space?

As long as you’re happy, it’s all good, please don’t get stuck in a soulless rat race,

Quit, whenever you want to,

All that matters is your happiness and you,

You never have to fend for the child and me,

I’ll step back to work soon and you will have to pitch in, with our family of three,

Please remember, having a baby was not my decision alone,

Then why am I, single-handedly, having to deal with his baby groans and moans?

Please step in, 

I assure you, its a win-win,

You nodded along vacantly, until you didn’t,

A single mother, was what I shouldn’t,

Have been,

You never wanted a family, did you? Quickly come clean,

If you didn’t, you wouldn’t have worked like a machine,

Always staring into a screen,

Even when you were alive, you were missing,

With you dead, I find myself reminiscing,

About all the good times and the bad, peppered with an ample number of lonely days,

I have to remind myself, you’re never coming back, not even on Sundays,

I’m faced with a lifetimes of loneliness,

While you’re busy enjoying your afterlife, filled with warmth and homeliness. 

Flashes

Your lips were slightly parted, under that stark white sheet,

Your heart had stopped it’s rhythmic beats, 

I refused to believe it was you, 

Lying motionlessly, when your face still retained, the freshness of dew,

We had just hugged all night long,

In a tight embrace, that felt warm and strong,

You died on a stranger’s lap,

Even before reaching the hospital or receiving a CPR zap,

Unable to understand,

Why God slapped us, with this nasty underhand,

You may be at peace wherever you are,

For you achieved everything you had your mind set on, like a driven, mechanical superstar,

I wish you lived many more decades, just for me, 

And our little bee,

Don’t you miss us anymore?

Or does the thought of us, fill your soul-mind with bore,

Do you even have a heart or a mind?

Or have you turned blind? 

Spiral

I’m unsure about when exactly your downward spiral of destruction,

Began to unfurl, it was purely an act of self infliction,

Did it begin with the lockdown?

Is that when you began to burn down?

Did it begin when the baby was born?

When you had to face my sleep deprived, scorn?

Did it began when both your vocalists died?

Leaving your brain, musically deprived and fried,

You were very dissatisfied,

With all your achievements, you wanted more and more, until you just collapsed and died,

When would the madness have ended?

Why couldn’t you see, that your life was already so splendid,

I blame no one for your death, but you,

If I were you,

I would have snapped out of that tempting forever snooze,

Knowing well, that I had everything to lose,

Was rising up the ladder, the only thing that ever mattered?

It came at the cost of your mind, body and soul getting battered,

Your death has only proved once again, that no one is indispensable in this world,

The anguish of your death, was experienced by your innocent child, who lay curled,

On your suitcase,

The square box, found itself in his tight little embrace,

His heart and mind, in a forever debate,

From where I stand, you’ve cheated him straight,

Out of a happy childhood, you’ve left him fatherless,

I can’t fill your shoes, all I can do is ensure he never feels motherless,

They say souls are feelingless beings,

But you did unforgivable things, even as a human being,

I cannot forgive you, not today, tomorrow or ever, 

Your son is clever,

He will move on,

Soon, he won’t remember you or where you’ve gone,

I won’t bother reminding him about you, until he asks,

Because, talking about you is an agonising task.

Bombay

Bombay, the start and end of our lives,

It gave us a fiery drive,

Hope, dreams and a love,

So bright, that we dove,

Straight into that feeling,

Without realising, we’d have to face a lifetime of dealing,

With repercussions,

All the discussions,

We’d ever have,

Would be meaningless, in the face of this reality of being halved,

Bombay, the city of Mia Cucina, Clearing House, 

And our forever house,

I’m never going back,

To a city or a house, where I know I’ll never get you back,

Just thinking about those roads,

Fills my heart and head, with a heavy load,

Sometimes I wish I never met you,

Then I wouldn’t have a clue,

About how true love looked and felt like,

Now I’m impaled with a painful spike,

Deep inside my entire being,

I’m being held back, only for my son’s well being,

I know what I would have done,

If we didn’t have a son,

Maybe this is my purpose in life,

To raise him well and step back when he takes a wife,

What other choice do I have anyway?

With you forever gone and eternally away.

Our Wedding Video

Saw our wedding video today, from start to end,

We couldn’t quite comprehend,

What we were getting ourselves into,

Had we bitten off more than we could chew?

Yet, we had waited so patiently for this very day,

To pan out beautifully and play,

The game of life together, hand in hand,

To fight anything thrown our way, planned and unplanned,

We tried, didn’t we?

We really did. Then why did you flee?

When death came knocking,

You should have kept walking,

With your head held high, 

Instead you closed your eyes,

And didn’t give us a chance to say goodbye,

Your son keeps asking me why,

You haven’t taken your office bag along with you,

He still doesn’t have a clue,

About why and where you’ve gone,

He’s convinced you’re lost in the office. He emphasises this thought, every night, before his final yawn,

I cried buckets today, as he played,

He watched in silence and finally laid,

All his toys out in front of me,

And told me to pick one of them, 

To play,

So I decided to stay,

In that moment, with our son,

Our innocent little bun,

Whose hands I must hold tight,

Until, he meets his someone right,

I’ll hand over my wedding ring to him that day,

And stay out of their way.

Eight Years

I hate you for being dead, today of all days,

It’s been eight years since we’ve been married today,

Where are the cakes and the flowers,

That remind me of the few precious hours,

We had with each other, week after week,

I feel bleak,

And miserable right now,

We made a sacred vow,

To stick with one another, through sickness and health,

But your idea of providing love and comfort, was in just amassing a stupid amount of wealth,

Wealth, which I never wanted,

Because it came with an empty house, that always felt haunted,

We were two lonely souls,

You especially, having no control,

Over your time and life,

Spending anniversary after anniversary, away from me, which was hardly ever a life,

If you thought, taking me to a fancy restaurant over the weekend cut it,

Let me reassure you, it didn’t, especially since all the food you liked to eat, tasted like aesthetically plated horse shit,

I needed you then and I need you now,

So where are you? I wanted a husband, not a cash cow,

You, of all people in the world, knew this,

Yet, all you ever did, was dismiss,

My pleas, my thoughts and my views,

Well congratulations, for having it your way, yet again, you are in a forever snooze,

I hope you’re in the same amount of pain,

That the child and I experience everyday, over and over again. 

Skewed Priorities

You could have been a legend,

Just like John Legend,

The only management consultant turned musician, you looked up to,

You showed me his work profile too,

And chuckled at his designation,

He was never meant to number crunch, he made multiple nations,

Swoon and croon to his tunes,

All day, all night and even in the afternoons,

The musician in you applauded him,

But you still chose to work on presentations, that made you grim,

Priorities and life choices,

I wish you stopped to listen to your inner mind’s voices,

Your heart always stayed with your guitars,

And playing massive concerts in fancy bars,

I wish, both your vocalists lived,

Maybe then, your musical ambitions wouldn’t have been so short-lived,

You fake cribbed, every time you played an out station show,

With the boys, but I know,

You loved the attention,

The adulation and the mention,

Of your music and bands,

You were more than willing to shake hands,

With fans and hero worshippers, 

Of your craft. You hated gossipers,

Considered them beings with low I.Q,

But what did you ever do, with your own high and mighty I.Q?

Us low I.Q folks are still alive,

Unlike you, whose memories only crash-dive,

My very existence, which has become a total joke now,

But I will not lower my head or bow,

Under the weight of your mistakes,

I might be broken now, but I’m not a flake,

Never was, never will be,

Same goes for our little bee,

His life will have meaning, 

His brain will slowly start weaning,

Memories of you,

He will not have a clue,

About his father,

And I wont bother,

Filling him on your lousy decisions,

He will be wiser and stronger, with much clearer visions,

For himself and his future,

One that I will enable him to build, then I’ll step back, unlike a greedy moocher,

You and I knew all too well,

Unfortunately, you allowed the moocher to dwell,

And pass opinions on our life,

Not anymore, never again, for I’m not a wife,

You closed that chapter for me,

Uprooted that beautiful tree,

That I so laboriously grew,

Along with you, the difference being, I always thought through,

All my decisions, keeping you in mind,

You, my very own husband and life, who took me for granted, despite being the very wind,

And stabilising force in your life,

What I ran, was your entire life,

From doctors appointments to haircuts to flower bouquets and gifts for “well wishers”,

You left it all to me. Is this your way of acknowledging all that I did, by making me wither,

Inside and out,

Just like a ripe paddy field, stuck in a never ending drought. 

Hollow

The baby had his first professional haircut today,

You would have been overjoyed, watching him stay so calm, with every snip and spray, 

I knew you were there till the very end,

You signalled me, with your favourite song from “The Weekend”,

Before the haircut, we stepped into Miniso,

I picked up a sippy cup for the baby, that was really so,

Loud and pink,

You would’ve squinted and blinked,

At the girly shade,

But I promise, that was the only sippy cup, the shop had displayed,

Next, we went to your favourite coffee haunt, Starbucks,

Mum gasped in dismay and shuddered at the wasteful bucks,

Spent on tasteless coffee and an over sweet piece of chocolate cake, 

We went to Hamleys too and that’s when I really felt my heart break, 

The reality of my life hit me,

Which is, I’m always surrounded by people, but I’m hollow inside, like a honey less bee,

So many people to pick and choose from,

Except my man, my one and only, who had the power to make my heart drum,

Or should I say strum?

I can think of so many better ways, you could have used your fingers and thumb,

Your friends call you a musical genius,

I wish you were as ingenious,

When faced with manipulation, 

Perhaps then, I wouldn’t have witnessed and been an integral part of your cremation. 

Two Days

Two days left until we become man and wife,

In a different time, space and life,

I wish I could burn 9th February,

Into oblivion, then I wouldn’t have to carry,

This beautiful memory forever etched into my soul,

One that doesn’t make me feel whole,

Anymore,

“Getting married in your early twenties is folklore”,

“You kids have better opportunities in store”,

I replied, “Agreed, but we’re emotional beings too. So placing matters of the heart first, was never a chore”,

I was so arrogant when we first met,

I thought we could have it all, without working up a sweat,

Carnival of Rust somehow became “our” song,

And we foolishly went along,

With the flow,

Look where that got me today, a life with no glow,

I have the baby, yes,

He makes me feel blessed, in moments of stress,

But even he can’t grasp the monumental loss,

That has been thrown our way, like a ruthless dice toss,

I blame no one for your downward spiral,

You were the master and maker of your own peril,

Morning walks, smoothies, grilled food and Vitamin pills,

I forced upon you, without frills,

Finally, it lay in your own two hands,

To take a stand,

To prioritise peace of mind,

To be a little kind,

Instead, you lost the plot,

And got so badly caught,

In a vicious cycle of people pleasing,

Which had you squeezing,

The very life out of you,

From where I stand, your death feels like yet another one of your unreasonable whims, which you couldn’t quite chew,

A whim that has ruined my life,

I wonder, why did you even take me as a wife,

When I never featured in your big decisions,

You vaguely spoke to me about all that you envisioned,

You never encouraged or supported my resistance,

Now look at the distance,

You’ve successfully managed to place between us and you,

I promise, our son will be better than you,

The rest of my life,

Will be dedicated to this very purpose, which is much larger than your rather short, yet memorable life.

RoboCop

I'm understanding RoboCop's heart a little better,

Ever since God decided to be my home's wrecker,

All my basic human abilities seem to be working,

Except for my heart that's shirking,

It's unable to perform it's only function, which is to feel,

Bitterness, seems to be the only way to deal,

With horrible news, especially of death or disease,

Nothing can be worse than the story of my life, which has stopped, with such ease,

My son moves me,

For he made us a family of three,

Other than his toddler antics, my life seems robotic and pointless,

My smiles are joyless,

My brain has corroded,

My heart has eroded,

Just waiting to be strapped into a metal suit,

So that I can shoot,

At will.

Four Days To Go

As our eight wedding anniversary looms closer and closer,

My breaths become shorter and raspier, I feel a sense of discomposure,

Four days later,

You may or may not have done anything spectacular,

However, the feeling that we’ve sailed through eight years of stormy seas,

Without too much of a wheeze,

Would have been reason enough,

To celebrate with some chicken puff,

That massive, flaky one from Poetry, overloaded,

And stuffed to the brim with spicy chicken filling, that just explodes,

In the mouth, with every greedy bite,

Next, we would’ve walked down the streets of Hiranandani in delight,

After that calorie laden meal,

With a lot of gusto and zeal,

“Let’s wash it down with ice cream?”, I would suggest,

“Sure poopie. Nature’s Basket?”, you would have pressed,

Windows down and staring at the world passing by,

Car cozily parked next to Hiranandani garden, finishing our ice creams by the sly,

A long afternoon siesta would follow,

That is unless, your son decided to wallow,

In self pity and hysterical sobs,

For he never wanted to come home, our only jobs,

Are to keep him entertained,

Doesn’t matter if we feel drained,

From our outing of gluttony,

He would be utterly,

Cranky and sleepy,

Which explains, why he would be so weepy,

Hopefully, the next anniversary would be more calm,

With no baby meltdowns or need for headache balms. 

Not Okay

I’m not okay,

I haven’t been okay,

Since my husband dropped dead on 6th December,

What I do remember is that Austin Powers in Gold member, 

Was a movie he watched, one too many times,

All the signs,

Constantly hit me on the head,

That this is one partnership I will dread,

And I did, each time he cracked a potty joke,

Or got home an odd bloke,

His taste in music and food,

Caused many a feud,

I wonder what we saw in each other,

That we had the strength to overcome, one hurdle after another,

Just to be together,

We weren’t birds of the same feather, 

Far from it,

I had a Scooty permit,

While he was a practical, no nonsense four wheel driver,

The Scooty made me a broken arm survivor,

The accident promptly got him home then,

And that’s when,

The questions began to be raised,

My parents were far from amazed,

With his unruly, long curly hair,

Oddly shaped goatee and body structure, similar to a teddy bear,

“No, no and no”,

“He is an average Joe”,

“We’ll find someone far more suitable for you”,

I didn’t have a clue,

About our next move,

Your side of the family sang the same groove,

So did God grant us a life divorce?

And throw us on a different course?

To reinforce the fact,

That the odds were always stacked,

Against us and not for us,

I got ready to come to Bombay Hospital on 6th December, to make a fuss,

And rake a storm with you,

I was glad that you had a fall, the fact that you were working too hard would finally get through,

To that thick skull,

That life without you was so dull,

So please, spend some more time at home,

How am I supposed to step out for work, if you perennially roam?

The last thing I expected was to see you lying dead,

With only your gorgeous head,

Sticking out of that sheet,

It couldn’t be, you would never treat,

Me like that,

It couldn’t be you lying flat,

On a stretcher, in an impersonal corner,

While our son constantly murmured,

“Take me home, mumma”

Nuts N Spices

The most interesting grocery shop in Chennai, 

The equivalent to Mumbai’s Nature Basket, that can quickly make a shopper’s wallet run dry,

The baby picked up Pringles, I had a staring contest with Raw Pressery, Valencia Orange juice,

Next, my eyes fell upon 4700 BC Himalayan Salted Caramel Popcorn and Kimchi noodles of all varieties, mass produced, 

Racks filled with Veeba Sriracha Chilli Garlic sauce didn’t help,

Baba’s big blue car sped past us, making me instantly yelp,

You are everywhere, 

In the very air,

That I breathe, 

The anger in me that boils over and seethes, 

Is pointless,

In the face of a future, that looks bleak and useless,

How am I supposed to live,

Or feel alive,

With you just gone,

I thought I always had you, to count on,

Forever, 

But my heart feels severed, 

Or maybe, I don’t have a heart anymore,

Conversations with people are such a chore,

But your son keeps yapping all day,

Constantly showing me the way,

To lead the rest of my life,

One that doesn’t involve being a wife,

He snaps me out of my reverie, 

Forces me to switch off my random access memory,

Memories filled with you,

No point, letting him see that I’ve turned cuckoo,

He has his own share of sadness,

To deal with, he must overcome and rise out of the darkness.

Never Ending Absence

Mumbai, the city of dreams,

It always made you beam,

You never wanted to leave,

For it made you achieve,

Everything that you had your heart set on,

You transformed from an awkward, overprotected little duckling to a graceful swan,

You became a man,

Formed your own clan,

Filled people’s lives with hopes, ambitions and drive,

You helped them thrive,

Always pointing them towards the right direction,

However busy you were, you always made the time, to hold their hands, with a lot of affection,

I wish you devoted half that time,

With your son at bedtime,

Your time, that’s all we ever wanted,

Instead, you made us feel unwanted,

You always chose your work over us,

And made so much fuss,

Trying to convince me, 

That everything you did and achieved, you did because of and for me,

I wish I was a terrible homemaker and mother,

Then maybe, you would have prioritised your family, more than any other,

Pressing task, client meeting, unnecessary ego massaging,

And finally, people pleasing whereby sabotaging,

Your every chance to have a peaceful life,

You may have found peace in the afterlife,

But what use is that,

When the child and I feel splat,

In the face of your never ending absence.

Potty Emergency

There was a potty emergency this morning,

Your son gave out a screechy warning,

That there was poop in his bum,

So he threw me out of my own room, his beloved mum,

Next, he wanted to clean his mess,

By removing his nightdress,

Only in granny’s room,

Post bum washing, the pink towel that was meant to wipe his moist bum was met with gloom,

He screamed the whole building down,

And got rid of his frown,

Only when he saw his stark white bath towel,

Then he lowered his growls,

And dried his bum,

Without being glum,

I pictured you then,

Still in your sleepy zen,

Annoyed on being woken up,

With an unceremonious baby blow up,

“Please! Let me sleep”,

“I need my sleep”,

The baby would place his freshly washed bum on your face,

In response, to your need for space,

“Let’s go to Starbucks”, would be your next move,

My initial reaction would be to disapprove,

And then give in,

To your unreasonable whim,

In hindsight, those early morning breakfast buffets,

And coffee dates, were the best start to our otherwise monotonous days.

So Much To Do

There’s still so much left to do,

Your Valentine’s Day gift from me is due,

I’ve looked at a couple of options, 

And made a few deductions,

On what you might like to have this year,

It has to be something that will make you grin from ear to ear,

You will flash it on Instagram,

After taking a good shot from your mobile cam,

I remember the very first Valentine’s Day gift you begged me to send you,

So that you could show it off in full view,

To your friends at work,

I’m sure it was met with a smirk,

I always advised you to be discreet and not broadcast our story,

In full glory,

To all and sundry,

But you did, quite bluntly and in every country,

That you visited,

You showed everyone our pictures and the story of how we met,

I learnt from your most recent juniors at work too,

That you always felt blue,

On Monday mornings, away from Riaan and me,

We missed you too, especially your little bee,

He asked about you everyday, from Monday to Friday,

Didn’t help, that every house he visited, had fathers present. Still, I told him that you were on the way,

With a massive Hamley’s toy,

He was never mamma’s boy,

He was always your boy, Baba’s boy,

He was more excited to meet you, than receiving an expensive toy,

The toy was just a bonus,

Your fatherly responsibility towards him, was not an onus,

It was your sacred privilege, 

One that you can never envision,

How in peace and rested can you really be,

Knowing that your little bee,

Pines for you every waking second of every day,

Along with me, your wife, who waited eagerly for you to reach home on Friday,

We still unconditionally love you,

But loving you, makes us feel so void, empty and blue. 

Riaan

Riaan, my reason to live,

The fuel to my drive,

If it weren’t for his little eyes and face,

That blinked cluelessly, at your motionless body, like it was from outer space,

I would have joined you,

In a heartbeat, for it felt like the right thing to do,

I felt the Earth splitting open under my feet,

When I saw you wrapped under that white hospital sheet,

Why didn’t God take me,

Couldn’t he see,

That all my breaths, were linked to yours,

We fought so many battles together, but lost this nasty war,

Against God,

Your green office shirt had been clawed,

And roughly unbuttoned, 

CPR marks had cut,

Your gorgeous bare-chest,

The same chest, that was my life therapist,

You had to be awkwardly folded up and carried, by a number of people through our apartment lift,

I still wished,

That it was me, instead of you,

I didn’t like seeing your beautiful face, covered by a hospital sheet, I still didn’t have a clue,

Why or what was happening to us,

I was forced to fuss,

Over the bed sheet, that had to be placed under you,

And one over you,

What a horrible night! The next day was worse,

The urge to traverse,

To you, was still strong,

All my breaths, felt out of place and wrong,

I made Riaan touch your face, feet and tummy, one last time,

Before you were made to climb,

In an airy crematorium van,

Nothing was going as per our plan,

You said you’d love me, until one of us dies,

Did you see me swatting flies,

Off your face,

As all your acquaintances paced,

Around you and me,

Watching our happy family of three,

Being rubbed with ghee and then going up in flames,

I was still hoping all this was a bad game,

Of Monopoly or Uno, gone wrong,

How can I belong,

To this world,

When you’ve gone to the afterworld,

I am coming,

As soon as I witness Riaan becoming,

A responsible father and husband,

I want him to get accustomed,

To leading a well balanced life,

He will exercise, work, study, play and marry a beautiful wife,

One who understands his heart,

Together, they will chart,

Their journey of life,

Without interference and unnecessary strife,

From external factors,

We had too many of those venoms in our life, excellent posers and actors,

Who feigned fake concern,

While in reality, all they wanted was for you to churn,

Money and more money,

Just so that their lives could turn, into pure honey,

I can’t stand those people anymore,

Talking to them, even for ten seconds, is a chore,

I am coming,

And this time, you will take over the plumbing,

Along with all the other household chores,

This time, we won’t have to fight battles or win wars,

I will forever be yours,

And you will be mine, for all the unending years,

We will experience together, in our beautiful afterlife.