You Never Smelt The Roses

Seven star properties, were a part of your life,

You stayed in them, five days a week, far from your wife,

You never stopped to smell the roses,

You were always knee deep in case work and proposals,

You didn’t enjoy your forever house,

The one you handpicked and decorated, for your son and spouse,

You didn’t use the clubhouse gym,

The one with the view of me, enjoying my swim,

You looked in wonder at our apartment’s massive garden and park,

Whenever you had time off, away from corporate sharks,

You weren’t always this person,

A shrewd, calculative, aggressive businessperson,

You were a lover of music, abstract art, strange science fiction books and gourmet food,

Your hobbies, had the power to elevate your mood,

Why didn’t you spend some quality time,

With those things, that really made your soul chime,

I wish you had opened your recording studio,

And taken it slow,

You were a musician,

A fine one at that, with so many creative ambitions, 

You loved playing live shows and attending concerts,

I enjoyed watching you perform and looked forward to donning my finest skirts,

I took pride in being the lead guitarist’s wife,

The one with whom you spent the chunk of your life,

You played numerous shows, accumulated thousands of fans,

And chose to hold only my hands,

I admit, I fell in love with you, 

Only because music was your primary brew.

You

Did the world really know you, like I did,

I'm being told you were a mentor, an inspiration and a rockstar, but in reality, you had the heart of a kid,

You were my telly tubby man,

Who surely wanted, a longer life span,

You had BMW dreams,

And loved working with smart teams,

If you liked someone or something at work,

You would talk to me endlessly about that person or case, until I went berserk,

Didn't matter what time you came home,

You'd wake me up immediately and get me upto speed with your weekly activities, 

Not everything you did was interesting, I'll admit,

You were essentially a cool nerd and I resisted my urge to split,

Each time you droned on and on, about something I just couldn't comprehend,

Still, I tried my best to lend,

A patient ear and filled the house with all your favourite goodies galore,

With you gone, my life has turned sour,

I've turned into the Mind Flayer from the Upside Down world,

The best place for me is alongside you, in the afterworld,

I'm being told, you'd do anything to come back,

So why aren't you back?

Are you happy with this void you've created in my life?

Your poopie, your best friend and your wife,

That's what you called me,

If you really meant it, you'd hover around me,

Until I reach you,

Right now, that's the least you can do. 

Our Forever House

Whether you were influenced by external factors,

Or got bulldozed into it and purchased a 3BHK blindly, like a brainless yet efficient tractor,

I’ll never know, 

What I do know,

Is that you wanted to see your son grow,

In our forever house, from a human clay dough,

You had dreams and desires for the three of us,

You wanted me to head back to work and put your son on a school bus,

You left my career decisions to me,

And told me to pick a good school for our bee,

You would stand by us,

As always, rock solid, without too much fuss,

You trusted every decision I took for the baby,

Any suggestion I had for the house however, was always met with a maybe,

You did have a better sense of interior decor,

Still, some of your statement art pieces, induced many a snore,

So, you allowed me to hang them in the bathroom,

While the ones I chose, were placed prominently in the living and dining room,

“Admit defeat, your taste in art is terrible”

“No, I love you and just want to see you smile. Your taste in art is truly unbearable” 

I was taken aback by your reply,

For once, you accepted and cherished my silence along with blushing eyes,

Whether you liked me talking or not,

I’ll never know, for if I spoke too little, you’d say, “What’s wrong?”, if I spoke too much, you’d screech, like a kettle pot,

Now I have lots of people to talk to,

But none of them are you,

I miss you,

All day, all night and in the afternoons too. 

Material Things

Six guitars, three amplifiers, one electric piano and umpteen speakers,

None of them have value, without their master, thrill seeker,

Two houses, one we transited through and the other you considered as our “forever home”,

For the sake of that big, airy house, you wanted to shelve your nomadic roam,

One blue car, 

Which your son termed “Baba’s big blue car”,

Unable to find the track “Poopie Monster” that you composed for me,

My mind is not at peace, but for now I’m letting it be,

Your son and I can’t wait to be mumma and baby star,

Just to knock out your nose and fart on your face, you stubborn, pig-headed imaginary czar,

I hope you haven’t started bullying all the souls in waiting,

Showing off your newly acquired soul skills, further aggravating, 

The problems of that wretched man or woman, they call “God”,

On second thought, you do you, he/she might just decide to send you down back to me, so that we can continue to plod,

And figure out this conundrum,

Called life, with our little son, who claims he has a lemony bum,

Now doesn’t that sound like a plan poopie,

Coming back to Riaan and me, your “original forever groupies”. 

Middle Class

You tried so hard to run away from this tag,                                                                    

Just so that you could subtly brag,

Behind closed doors,                                                                                                                            

About how, every expensive brand and experience in the world, could be yours,

But why run away from something,                                                                                  

That gave you everything,

Your education, your personality and your goals,                                                            

These solid foundations, were given to you and me, by hardworking souls,

Why belittle their efforts,                                                                                                  

And build an imaginary fort,

Of pretense and false superiority,                                                                                  

You were humble and grounded, for the majority,

But your carefully concealed mask,                                                                                  

I was always able to unmask,

I was never impressed with your hoity-toity ideas,                                                          

I tried my best, to make you understand that money didn’t grow on trees,

The little we made, we must invest,                                                                              

Only then can we rest,

And be ready to take on challenges,                                                                                   

With a cool well balanced mind.

You Tried

Not a single birthday or anniversary went by,

Without you making a huge hue and cry,

My gift for you had to be in place,                        

And it had to be unique, thoughtful and from outer space!

Your demands were amusing and childlike,          

But I was happy to meet them, just to watch you broadcast it from a mic,

Valentine’s Day, Poopiversary, Wedding Anniversary and Birthday,                                      

Each day with you, had shades of black, white and grey,

Food, was always the answer to every fight,        

Then try as I might,

A single whiff of Gajar Halwa or a nibble of Theobroma brownie,                                                  

Was all it took, to make me go weak in the knees,

You used this knowledge to your advantage,      

Successfully put out fires, before further damage,

Your weapons were elaborate flower bouquets and massive heart shaped chocolate cakes,      

Honestly, I preferred bouquets loaded with fried chicken and thick gooey shakes,

But the tied up blossoms and the cocoa overload,                                                                      

Made me temporarily forget, that I was a lock and key wife, who was all alone, in a husbandless abode,

So you tried, with all your might,                              

To make things right,

But in all honesty,                                                      

No gourmet cakes, flowers or expensive chocolates could ever replace you,

Sweet, precious you,                                                  

Who I loved fanatically, through and through,

If I had to re-live our life together,                          

I would happily go back to ruffling many feathers, 

Just to be with you,                                                    

Remember Joe Goldberg from "You",

I would be that dude for you,                                    

I'd kill, chop and plunder, just to be with strange, twisted, sweet, pure, paranoid, sensitive, goofy, dirty-minded you. 

What Were You Thinking

I didn't want diamond rings,

Or a fancy holiday in spring,

The baby wasn't wearing diapers made of gold,

He was your personal human sausage, waiting to be rolled,

So what were you thinking,

As you kept drinking,

Unending mugs of black coffee,

All for some imaginative corporate toffee,

That you so badly wanted to swallow,

You've turned our lives completely hollow,

You never worked for the baby and me,

You worked for your own self satisfaction and glee,

You wanted the adulation, love and respect,

You wanted to be better than the best,

I get it, I really do,

Even I worked only for those cues,

But not at the cost of my health and me-time,

When I heard the clock's 6pm chime,

I would be the first to shut down from work,

Unless there was a really pressing task to finish, then I would go berserk,

Your everyday at work, had a pressing task,

Not one day, did I see you remove your stressed, worried looking mask,

Was a client really more important, than your precious sleep,

Your eyes flew open, with the alarm's very first beep,

Many a time, I turned it off,

Risking the chance of a face-off,

With an irritated, sleep-deprived spouse,

Were you really a lion at work or just a meek mouse?

Who just shook his head like a puppet,

You were never a Muppet,

No, the poopie I knew was smarter than that,

Then tell me, why you fell flat, 

In the hands of strangers,

Instead of being at home with me, while breathing your last,

You were supposed to be my partner in life and death,

But you've abruptly left, leaving me with so many breaths. 

Let Him Go

"Let him go",

My parents whispered, as I showered you with kisses on your cold motionless face, that still had so much glow,

"Let him go",

My brother adviced, as I deeply breathed in your ashes and dug out every last bit of "you" to flow,

"Let him go",

Said the crematorium workers, who made me untie a knot from your toe,

"Let him go",

Said the pandit-ji, who helped me perform a five hour puja on the eleventh day and saw my tears overflow, 

"Let him go", 

For Riaan's sake, who must grow and fight every curve ball life throws, 

But letting you go,

Means letting the best part of me go,

How can I let go of 14 eventful years,

Filled with shared glory, happiness, fears, goals, sadness and cheers,

Who am I, if not Mrs Poopie,

I try my best to smile, but my eyes are traitorously droopy,

Would you have let me go,

If I had been the first to go.

Loneliness 101

A husbandless house,

A lonely spouse,

Always waiting,

Constantly debating,

The myriad voices,

Questioning our life choices,

"How do you live alone in this alien city, with a perpetually travelling husband?",

"I respect his career choices and have made myself accustomed",

"Poor you! What a tough life"

"Not really. He is my life, I am the happiest wife"

This cat and mouse game,

Was alright, until parents we became,

If it took two to make a baby,

Then why say maybe,

When I requested you to pay a little more attention at home?

An equal partner was whom I sought,

Instead I found myself caught,

Inside a stinging hot cauldron,

Overflowing with unrealistic goals, self-destruction and over-work, 

You turned a blind eye to everything that mattered,

Your selfish decisions have royally battered,

Everything we built so hard to create,

Starting with being each other's best mates.

Beautiful, Vibrant You

You are not the motionless body,

I found covered under a white sheet that looked utterly shoddy,

You are not the closed eyes and blue lips,

With your formal green shirt roughly pulled out of your hips,

You are not a barechested body, covered roughly with CPR marks,

You were infact a loving father who played with your son in parks,

You are not an ice-cold body turning black,

With your folded hands rising up rigidly like an unnatural airsac,

You are not a deadbody attracting flies,

You were in reality, a secret lover of crispy, golden french fries,

You are not a lump of meat on whom I applied ghee,

You were a family man, a maker of three,

You are not grey ashes in a tiny clay pot,

Which I sprinkled in the Bangana Tank under the extreme heat,

You are Riaan's baba and my poopie,

The bringer of peace, love, happiness and occasional whoopie,

You were the boy and man, I fell madly in love with,

You captured my heart with ease, like a skilled locksmith,

You captured my imagination as well,

And understood the weird workings of my brain a little too well,

With you gone, 

The whole world looks wrong,

Everyday is a struggle,

There's just too much to juggle. 

The Flawed Genius

A flawed genius is what you are,

You left many a scar,

You got so caught up in the hysteria of ascending the ladder,

That you made yourself madder,

From the carefree college boy,

Who was filled with so much joy,

Where did that boy go,

The one who just wanted to go with the flow,

As the mother of your child,

I worry your son will be just as wild,

But hopefully, just the right amount,

To make his life count,

The maniacy you displayed at work,

Hand in hand with questionable corporate sharks,

Made you lose your soul, 

Your body merely followed you, into that black hole,

I always told you, you weren't indispensable,

But you weren't sensible,

To hear me out,

Instead, you filled my head with self doubt,

Questioned my decisions,

And made no provisions,

To change the way you lived,

Living out of suitcases and 7 star properties, 5 days a week, was no way to live,

You deprived yourself of a well balanced life,

Trying to fulfill corporate goals that costed you, your invaluable life. 

Where's Baba?

"Where's Baba?"

Asked our little bubba,

"With God", 

I replied, nice and loud,

"I want to see him, mumma",

"Take me to him mumma",

He persisted,

So, we walked to the balcony, unassisted,

I pointed to the brightest star,

"There's your Baba, living like a Czar",

Our Bubba chuckled, "That's funny",

He said, digging his little nose for gold and honey,

"What's he doing there?"

"Watching you intently and singing a little prayer",

"Take me to him mumma",

"I want to be with him mumma",

He persisted,

The silent tears I resisted,

Began to flow with a massive gush,

Until my mother caught hold of me and said "Hush!",

Your son hasn't forgotten you,

His heart is still stuck with you, 

I don't know how to pacify him,

I certainly don't give in to his every whim,

He may grow up hating or loving me,

Doesn't matter, I'll always be his mother bee.

Bye-bye BMW

We test drove SUVs for four months,

You finally reached a decision in the last month,

I see Arjun Kanungo driving one now,

His fans (excluding me) are going wow,

No BMW X1 for me,

A BMW bike is what fills my heart with glee,

You hated my Scooty riding days,

Your description of my riding skills were far from praise,

Just to spite you,

I'll get back on two sturdy wheels and paint the town blue,

There's nothing you can do,

Not even sit moodily with your hot caffeine brew,

Still so angry with you,

For getting swept up in your self- 

made, suffocating stew,

Think long and hard about your toddler and wife,

Whose lives you've successfully managed to stab with a painful knife.

Love and War

All's fair in love and war,

Our lovestory from start to finish, was filled with blood and gore,

We fought the whole world,

Just to build our dreamworld,

Life was hard,

But we deflected every shard,

We won every battle hand in hand,

Sadly, we lost the war against God and watched helplessly as he played his nasty underhand, 

I wake up every morning, expecting your videocall,

Then I realise we can only talk now, when God gives me a call,

Are you waiting for me,

Or excercising your poor flirting skills with heaven's every last bird and bee,

I want you to be a one-woman man, even in death,

Don't assume your loyalty to me is finished with your last breath,

I'm watching your every move, as humanly possible,

Coming up there and giving you a whack is far from impossible,

So be good,

Don't tempt me to come there with a hard piece of wood,

Now don't crack dirty jokes over the word "wood",

Not everyone understands that you hardly left your boyhood,

My poopie and baby number one,

You will always be my one and only one,

Love you,

Until my mortal eyes close and my lips turn blue.

Strength

Where am I supposed to find it from,

When I feel so numb,

My husband was my strength,

Although we were always on different wavelengths,

He was my Banyan tree and my shade,

A cosy little cocoon we had made,

Away from prying eyes,

Where we shared all our lows and highs,

It was always us against the world,

Until God decided to snatch you to the netherworld,

If there is a God, I hate him,

I won't be singing him any more hymns,

It wasn't your time,

Someone, somewhere has to pay the price for this crime,

I miss you, today and everyday,

More so on Fridays,

Life has lost all meaning,

I'm tired of hearing hollow words disguised as "well meaning". 

Moving On

Was I just a trophy wife,

Or did you consider me a huge part of your life,

How am I supposed to move on,

With you abruptly gone,

Am I supposed to continue living,

And keep forgiving,

All the wrong decisions you took,

With your misguided outlook,

Each day without you feels hollow,

This bitter reality of my life, am I expected to just swallow,

Should I continue loving you or hating you,

For what you've put me through,

Now I know how Pepper Potts felt when Iron Man died,

Too many expensive gadgets to clean and keep aside,

Do you realise at least now,

The slyness of people and how they made you senselessly plough,

My cautionary words seemed empty to you then,

I pray in the next life, you won't repeat it all over again,

I'm angry, so so angry,

With this meaningless half life, you've bestowed upon me so blankly. 

Riaan Is Three

Our bundle is three,

Are you far away or buzzing around like a bee,

Will you kiss him today,

And join in his play,

He hasn't asked about you offlate,

Perhaps he has resigned to his fate,

I took him to the beach today,

To kickstart his birthday,

He was ecstatic,

And viciously attacked his favourite sandy brown gold, like a fanatic,

He has convinced us that he is three months old,

And can no longer be controlled,

Opinionated, adamant and an absolute rebel,

No squabble ends well,

It's always his way or none,

He truly is your son,

That both excites and scares me,

Because I don't want him to flee,

From the realities of life and live inside a hazy little cloud,

He must live a well rounded life and that I will din into him, nice and loud,

He will excercise everyday,

Come back home early to his family,

Not be a people pleaser,

Instead be a smart little, well deserving seizer,

He can do and be anything,

As long as he does it all, with a playful ring,

Nothing and noone is more important than his life,

This he will learn from me for now and later his wife,

Now quickly wish him a happy third birthday,

Bless him, guide him and fill his life with abundant joy, today and everyday.

Why You?

Why did God take you,

When you still had so much to work through,

Out of all the nasty people in the world,

Why did he grab YOU to the netherworld,

Rapists, drug addicts, wife beaters, mafia dons,

You were merely a corporate pawn,

Who danced to their every tune,

You ruthlessly abused your mind, body and soul, ever ready to swoon,

To empty promises and ego massages,

Your head was inflated with barrages,

Of admiration and compliments,

God-complex was what you developed as a complement,

Your son and I didn't want an unstoppable God at home,

Or someone who perennially wanted to roam,

We wanted you and only you,

Not your guitars, your houses or the money you grew,

I fell in love with a stinky, unshaven college kid,

Your son simply wanted a father to play daredevil games with, which I tried my best to forbid,

Your bank balance and your fancy degrees,

Didn't make your son or me go weak in the knees, 

All we ever wanted was your time,

We were least interested in watching you maniacally climb,

Through a corporate machinery,

That made you so unkind and unseemly,

You snapped at everyone,

Including your almost 3 year old son,

For that I'll never forgive you,

You got so caught up in your own self-made selfish brew,

I'm not so large hearted,

To move on quickly from the crude manner in which you parted.

One Horrible Month

One horrible month since you've been gone,

I don't feel like waking up at dawn,

An existence without you,

Feels like an unending, painful flu,

If I had to relive my life with you,

Even if i knew,

That you'd go so soon,

I would still dance to your every tune,

I'd wait for the weekends,

Bide time with friends,

Pretend not to care when the door unlocked on Friday,

When in reality, my heart would be soaring in happiness glancing at my bae,

Riaan and I lived for the weekends,

You were better than the best of our baby and adult friends,

You were superdad and the love of my life,

I don't know about Riaan, but you would wholeheartedly agree, I was the ultimate superwife, 

Happy wife equals happy life,

And you made me so happy, even when your words cut sharper than a knife, 

We love you, forever more,

More than you'll ever know. 

Did I Love You Enough

We've had a million Tom and Jerry fights,

Because we had every right,

Through every "I hate you",

Was an intense "I love you",

We knew right from the start,

That we were burrowed deep inside each other's hearts,

Doesn't matter if you're dead or alive,

I will forever strive,

To keep your legacy shining bright,

I will fight the stormiest of seas and ride the toughest of flights,

Just to soar high, 

So that we can meet eye to eye,

This I promise with all my heart,

I will work smart,

Until I have to work no more,

Then I can join you in peace and take a blissful forever snore. 

Is Riaan You?

Riaan has got into an International school in Chennai, just like you wanted. His interview went very well. He spoke endlessly about himself and I spoke endlessly about you. You would've been happy to hear about the student teacher ratio, their ideas on feeding toddlers and how to potty train. I loved the school's principal. Can't wait to see him settle down nicely into that environment. 

Ever since you passed away, I've been noticing an uncanny resemblance between you and Riaan. He has become as sensitive as you overnight. Whenever he sees me howling uncontrollably, he holds my hand and says, "Don't worry maamaa. I'm here for you". He showers me with "I love you", very often. He massages my hands and face gently and says, "Don't be sad. Don't be angry. Be calm"

Whenever he sees me walking around aimlessly he tugs at my legs and says, "Come quick! Let me shut you inside this room, otherwise Baba will take you to the office, then you will also get lost" and "I won't let you go maamaa, don't leave me alone. I'll miss you".

You said you wanted to toughen him up and that I was not strict enough with him. You felt his life was filled with rainbows and cotton candies. Not anymore pupu, not anymore. His life has a void now. One that can never be filled. Not even by me. I am maamaa, not baba. 

Baba was the love of his life and mine. You've broken our happy family unit. All we ever wanted was your time and attention. We wanted you to play with us and listen to us. You did as best as you could. It just wasn't enough. We want more of you. So much more. 

I slept with your jacket last night. The one you wore for that last meeting. I smelt you all night long. But you didn't come in my dreams. Why? How dare you decide not to talk to me anymore? I'll give you two more nights. If you don't talk to me, I'll come find you. And if I come, there will be no going back. I know you're not that selfish. Think about Riaan, you don't want that for him. So talk to me, that's all you need to do. Talk. 

I hated the fact that Riaan resembles only you. In which world is it possible, that I carried him for 9 painful months, birthed him and he looks only like you! I was so angry each time someone made that remark. But today, I'm so glad he looks like you. He has your hair, forehead, eyebrows, eyelashes, ears and lips. Most likely, your brains and heart too. I'll forever be indebted to you for this gift of motherhood. I will see you through our little boy now. My only reason to live and smile. 

He has become naughtier and naughtier by the day. He has destroyed his grandmother's living room. Half her curios are broken. His grandfather has reached his wits end. He has been attacking his desktop computer, keyboard and mouse like nobody's business. My parents are most likely having second thoughts about letting me and your chimpanzee of a son into their house. 

Miss you pupu. Wonder why God didn't take me instead. Just counting the days until I can be with you again and have a roaring argument with you, about why you left so abruptly. Love you forever, with every last fibre of my being. Keep a box of brownies or a bowl of piping hot Gajar Halwa handy, you'll need it. 

The Power Of Chocolate

Chocolate has played a very important role in our romance. I'm convinced, without chocolate I may not have fallen so madly in love with poopie. Right from our first week of being together as a couple, poopie began showering me with chocolates. He bought me junk jewellery and chocolate dough balls. I knew in a heart-beat this was the man for me. Carbs oozing with chocolate and artificial plastic earrings. What more could a girl want?

He wouldn't dare enter the house on Friday nights without pastries and chocolates from Starbucks or the airport. It was his way of saying, "I love you". On one of those Friday nights he crazily offered to take me to Lower Parel, to eat a Double Chocolate Chip cookie from Sweetish House Mafia. So there we were, two tired work-ravaged souls (him more ravaged than me, of course), who jumped into their little red car and drove all the way from Kandivali to Lower Parel. All for the love of chocolate. 

Yet another Saturday morning found him offering to take me to Chocolateria San Churro. So off we went, from Kandivali to Juhu and then Juhu to Bandra. The Juhu outlet didn't have thick dark chocolate, only the milky one. So naturally, we had to go to the Bandra outlet. 

To make up for missing the birth of his son, he purchased tons of chocolate cookies, chocolate lollipops and chocolate tarts. Before he said, "Hi", he placed that big cardboard box of goodies on my lap. Before I could scream, "WHERE THE HELL WHERE YOU!?", a chocolate cookie was stuffed down my throat. Then he held his child with moist eyes and kissed him in peace.

When we went to Disneyland in Hong Kong, he didn't bother asking me what I wanted. He ordered a piping hot mug of hot chocolate with chocolate mickey ears for me and a black coffee for him. 

Whenever we had roaring fights at home, he would personally step out of home and pick up a box of Theobroma brownies, or have it home delivered. 

Whenever we went to Starbucks he encouraged me to drink their hot chocolate or stick to plain black coffee, but I always ended up trying their terrible tasting seasonal drinks by falling for their fancy marketing gimmicks. And then poopie, would shake his head in disappointment and mutter, "Why doesn't she ever listen to me"

Molten lava cake from Chili's, sizzling brownie from Cafe Coffee Day and the massive chocolatey dessert from Hard Rock Cafe; if there is a restaurant in Bombay with a gigantic chocolate dessert, poopie and I have demolished it.

He did love me, that carefree college kid, who turned into a work obsessed demon towards the end. He did, in his own, twisted way. Music, work, toddler, wife. Perhaps, this was the order in which he loved.

My Dearest Poopie

I'll love you till the end,

Even now when our lives have taken a bend,

Picturing your gorgeous face and dirty jokes,

Make me choke,

I should have died years ago on my Scooty,

Then I wouldn't have lived this impossible love story filled with unbridled beauty, 

Two 21 year olds,

From vastly different households,

Our union met with a lot of hesitation,

But we had already jumped to the next station,

In our heads we were already married,

So best to keep unwarranted comments buried,

Our life together was far from rosy,

But we tried our best to make each other feel cosy,

We braved many a storm,

And kept finding our way back into each other's arms which were always warm,

We only knew how to love,

Everything and everyone else we successfully managed to nudge away and shove,

You were mine and I was yours,

The rest of the world we blurred.

How I'm Doing

How do you think I am doing? A 34 year old newly turned widow. My whole world turned upside down with one strange phone call. The life I knew for 14 golden years, wiped out in seconds. 

No handsome husband to fight with and then make-up. A son without a father. An entire life we envisioned together, gone. Just like that, all with one phone call.

November 6th, poopie's birthday, December 6th, the day he died, January 8th, Riaan's birthday, January 31st my birthday, February 9th, our wedding anniversary and 13th July, our poopieversary. These dates and months are going to hit me like boulders falling off a cliff, till the day I die. It will stick out like a sore thumb.

Riju asked me if I felt peaceful. I told him if the Joker were real, I would be it. Bloodied cut lips drawn into a forced smile and having the ability to blow up an entire building or town with no remorse. I have nothing left to lose anymore. Might as well cause a sizeable amount of destruction.

Will I ever heal? Will I ever be happy? And not just forced happy, for the sake of my child? Now I really am dark_angel_8731 (my yahoo ID that poopie made fun of). Guess what pupu, the joke's on you, because you've filled my head with darkness. My heart has turned to stone. I probably don't have a soul anymore and my brain has turned into dynamite, just waiting to explode. 

Well done! All that is on you. Still resting and feeling peaceful, wherever you are? Snap out of it, NOW. 

Riaan

Riaan, our little bun,

Whose face shines brighter than the sun,

Half you, half me,

Our precious little third pea,

We waited for five excruciating years,

Walked straight through hellfire and overcame our fears,

God tested us,

And after much fuss,

He finally came into our lives,

We were so overjoyed, we kept giving each other high-fives,

Today, I look at his adamant little face,

And quickly realise, I can never take your place,

But try I must,

For you have thrust,

The biggest challenge of my life,

One that cuts sharper than a knife,

You have wounded his soul and mine,

Still, our lives are entwined,

You belong to us and only us,

My poopie and Riaan's baba, there is still so much left to discuss,

If it weren't for our baby,

I would have joined you maybe,

One tempting cut to the wrist,

With my hands balled into a tight fist,

But I won't, not until he is eighteen,

He is still a bean,

Our darling little bean,

Who has turned just a wee bit mean,

Can't blame him,

For you are missing, you who satisfied his every little whim. 

Beach Therapy

I've been listening to The Weekend, Poets of the Fall, Steel Panther and The Lonely Island just to keep you close. Every song weighs down heavily on my mind. It reminds me of the specific conversations and the activities we were upto as we heard each one. You compartmentalized your music, just like your life. Chill music, weekend music, drive music, slow jazz, inspirational music and work music. I'm doing the same. I've compartmentalized my life and music into, pre-poopie and post-poopie. 

Strangely, it doesn't give me any solace. Only more pain and heartache over the beautiful memories and life we shared together, one that I can never have ever again. So, I went to the beach this morning, on a whim. Drove the car straight to the water with the baby and parents in toe. The lashing waves calmed me down instantly. The baby began throwing mud all over himself and his grandfather in no time. He dug his palms into the sand, drenched himself with it, shoved some into his mouth and continued flinging it around, like he had discovered brown gold.

You would have chuckled, watching his antics. Better yet, you would've joined him. Then, I drove to Saravana Bhavan. We drank your favourite filter coffee and walloped some delicious ghee laden pongal, masala dosha and puri masala. Remember Pongal, my favourite South Indian breakfast. Therefore, your favourite. Because, happy wife means happy life. Your philosophy not mine.

The night lamp and hallway light have been flickering on and off furiously ever since I came home. Is that you? I've been getting concerned messages and calls from your friends and mine. Two of your colleagues from work (those two kids you adored) have been going on and on about how much they looked upto you, the stories you narrated to them about Riaan and me, our life together and so on. It felt good, talking to them. Yesterday of all days, I needed that reassurance from the universe that you did in fact put the baby and me ahead of yourself, in your own warped way.

I told Ritesh I want to join MMA classes, but nothing is open at the moment (because Chennai). He told me to converse with an autorickshaw driver in my broken Tamil, I'd have a live MMA workout instantly. I agreed with him wholeheartedly. We spoke about other important things as well, but this part of our conversation was my main takeaway. 

Coming back to this morning's beach therapy session; our last visit to Juhu beach made you a beach convert as well. More of Besant Nagar beach for the baby and me. It doesn't take away all the pain, but it makes us forget, at least momentarily. 

The Ones That Got Left Behind

I'm oscillating between anger and sadness, with the stunt that you've pulled. None of the people that you held in the highest regard have reached out to me. Not one single person. Your work-wife looked dishonest and unconvincing. He told me to consider him a big brother. I almost told him to F!%k O#f but held my tongue. I already have two big brothers and a sister who can make chutney out of him.

You died for those traitors. I hate you for that. You never prioritized your health, your family time and your precious sleep. I saw you sleeping your hardest on 6th December '21. I only wish you slept like that when you were still alive. How many more movies we could've caught on the big screen. The new Spiderman movie released, just after you died. 

Riaan asked about you this morning. "Why has Baba not taken his big suitcase with him?" I replied saying, "He has left it for you my darling". He giggled and said, "Oh! Okay!"

Watched a stupid Malayalam movie yesterday, called "Kurup". It had too many scenes of Bombay and reminded me instantly of our life there. Your motionless body, lying in an impersonal corner of Bombay Hospital kept flashing in my head like an alarm. I quickly ran inside my room, switched off the lights and howled  as quietly as I could. The baby kept circling around me. Luckily, the lights were off so he didn't see my tear streamed, blotchy face. I don't want to burden him with my sadness. He has his own to deal with it. 

I read him a storybook last night about a family visiting a Zoo and he immediately asked about you. He thinks you've gone to the office poopie. I didn't bother correcting him. Let him wait for you. I know you won't let him down. You will visit your son. I know it in my heart.

Since gyms are shut in Chennai (now stop your sadistical chuckling, Chennai is not a village!) I've started evening and morning walks in our colony. It's not the same as walking in Raheja Vihar, but it will have to do. Home food is excellent and I'll bloat like a balloon before I know it. 

Have you met everyone up there yet? My grandparents? Nitin? Akshay? Your grandparents? How is everyone? Do you have drinks in heaven too? The logo of all your favourite beer brands bring a pang to my heart now. I might just start drinking beer now even though it tastes like horse piss. I saw multiple BMWs drive past me yesterday evening during my walk. I'm still not convinced as to why you had your heart so set on buying one.

New plan; I'm buying a BMW bike. I'm a bike rider remember? You're the car lover. I know you hated me driving my Scooty Pep. But you can no longer control my decisions. So BMW bike it is. I'll go on off-roads with fellow bikers and might even have a freak accident. Who knows? 

I have a child to raise, I know. You've happily dumped the biggest responsibility of our lives, on my shoulders and gone. So, I've taken it on, just like fixing the bathroom flush, changing a bulb, finding a dusting maid, finding a tenant for our Kandivali flat, getting Riaan admitted to a good school and so on. Then the bike accident can happen.

Our baby will be three years old on the 8th. I've taken over the cake design as usual. We're not calling anyone home this year though or decorating the house. We are in mourning after all. I still haven't prayed. Unable to find the strength in me to allow you to rest in peace. Don't rest in peace. You haven't done anything peaceful, in life or in death. I'm torn between intensely hating you and missing you terribly. My mind keeps replaying every conversation we ever had, from 13th July 2008 to 6th December 2021.

Why didn't you come home earlier? Why didn't you sleep earlier? Why did you miss my delivery and seven months of my pregnancy? What can be more important than being a father? Why did you travel so much? Why did you dress up so badly? Why didn't you ever comb your hair? Why didn't you wash your hands more frequently? Your chubby fingers always stank. What I wouldn't do now to have one last whiff of that nasty smell. 

You've murdered me along with you. I saw a Lenovo Thinkpad at the airport baggage check-in counter and I thought I'd die then and there. Going to the airport and sitting on a flight back to my parental home took everything out of me. I'm never leaving Chennai. I never want to see Bombay in my life. I don't want to board another aircraft or see an airport ever again. 

You wait for me wherever you are. I want you to regret all the decisions you ever took in your life, that excluded the baby and me. We were important. And you didn't give us that importance. I want you to repent, wherever you are. If I cry for 2 hours everyday, I want you to cry for 20. Keep crying until I meet you. Cry until you have no tears left inside you. They say you're a higher soul now and are in a different place. I don't care what you are. You just wait and cry. That's your only job now.

Stay Strong

Quite sick of hearing this little tit-bit,

Ever since God forced you and I to split,

Have you lost your 35 year old spouse?

Felt suffocated in your own house?

Did your better half go for an important meeting?

And leave the client's office with a heart that stopped beating?

Have you pushed your soulmate into the fire?

And felt tempted to jump into the pyre?

Have you rubbed ghee on his entire body?

In a crematorium that looked utterly shabby?

Have you smelt the ashes of the love of your life?

Listen long and hard when I tell you this, I AM A WIFE! 

My strength was my husband,

I'm barely able to stand, 

So please, I BEG YOU, stop telling me to be strong,

It sounds like a very badly composed song!

The Homecoming

I'm home. Or am I? I entered the house I grew up in with mixed feelings. I always wanted to come back to Chennai to pursue my career. The work life balance in this city is better. Or at least it was, eight years ago. I would be able to raise my child and head back to work. But how could I convince you? You, a Chennai hater and climate change expert, with your heart set on the world. 

I prayed hard to every God I know to just come back home with you and the child. God, granted my wish, but in such a twisted way. When I entered the bedroom I lived in pre-marriage, my eyes fell on our wedding photo. I instantly burst into tears. Every inch of that room reminded me of the girl who dated you and was waiting to get married to you. 

All the other rooms in the house have our wedding photo as well. I entered the kitchen and saw the same model of the coffee machine you used in our first house at Kandivali. I saw a wedding invitation lying on the dining table. I hadn't exercised because there is no gym near our house. First strike against Chennai. You would've made fun of the city in a heartbeat. 

I've been a fire breathing dragon all morning because of that one change in routine. You would've told me to calm down. But there is no you anymore. Just two anxious parents, in their late 60s and early 70s wondering what to do. 

So first things first, I'll join the gym tommorow morning and take the baby to the beach today. He hasn't asked about you yet. He asked about Vasavi aunty and his house. So I video-called Vasavi and told him this is his house. He shook his little head vehemently and said, "No. This is ammumma and Ajja's house". I replied saying, "I'll make a house, for you, me and Baba. Will you live with me there?" 

I've forgotten how everything in this house works, me, a 34 year old newly turned widow. How can I expect a 3 year old to quickly adapt and acclimatize? It will take time, for the two of us and my parents.

The fact that I'm no longer a child had to be dinned in quite rudely this morning. I apologized and told them the Cooam river had flooded my head and to forgive me in advance for any future bad behaviour. Do you remember the Cooam river poopie? That's what you've done to my brain. Congratulations! 

If you're having any second thoughts about  coming back from the dead, now would be the time to do it. I doubt you're at peace. For selfish reasons, I don't want you to be. Just come back already and I promise I'll stop nagging you about your lifestyle, your lack of sleep and your taste in music. 

Goodbye Mumbai

Ritesh and Rupa took me to our childhood favourite haunt - Laxmi. The auto ride from home till the restaurant had my heart soar up in earnest hope. I was sure you would be waiting for us there, cup of tea in one hand and Misal Pav in the other.

We ordered your favourite dishes, Misal Pav and Dahi Papdi chat. I discovered yet again, that our tastes in food were vastly different. I hated both dishes. The sugary, ginger chai made up for the terrible tasting food.

We spoke about you for one hour endlessly. By 10pm I told them we had to wrap up, because daddy would be worried sick. I will always be a school girl in pigtails for him! The fact that I have a son, ran a house for 8 years and lived away from them independently is something he conveniently forgets. 

So we rushed back home, to find daddy pacing in the dark, staring at the clock. Rupa giggled. I requested dad to go to bed, but he stayed put until we all said goodbye.

I'll miss our friends poopie, yours and mine. But this city brings a pain to my chest. It gave you to me 14 years ago and then took you away, just as easily. Every road reminds me of you. I have to get away. 

What hurts more than your death is the life you didn't get to live, but so badly wanted to. You wanted to mould your son into a fine young man. You wanted to buy a BMW this year. You were going to take a week off for our eighth wedding anniversary. You wanted to take me and Riaan to Europe. 

I'll try my best to fulfill these last wishes of yours. Will you help me? I'm no longer that typical clingy Indian mom by the way, I've decided to let Riaan marry whoever he wants. 

I've had a barrage of condolence messages and phone calls from people I barely know, they are indulging me with stories of how you touched their lives. I find myself consoling them and vice-versa. 

I smelt your shampoo for an hour today and wrote notes on the foggy bathroom mirror. You will answer my questions, I know. 

I miss you. So does Riaan. He has promised to come with me on long drives, shopping trips and superhero movie marathons. Wonder how long that will last! One pretty girl and I'm out. 

We visited Zora one last time today and Mano flung Zora and Riaan up in the air like dumbbells. They were thrilled, especially Riaan. He lived for moments like that with you on the weekends. It was very obvious from his actions, that he loved you more than me. His little heart is broken poopie. I havent been successful in fixing it just yet. 

I've always told you I can't raise this child alone. Remember that now, more than ever. You hold his hand, whenever he needs you. Because he needs you, more than me.