“You can’t hold back the dawn
Or stop the tide from flowing
Or keep a rose from withering
Or still a wind that’s blowing
And time cannot be halted
In its swift and endless flight..
For parting is sure to follow meeting…
As day comes after night…
I feel, deeply, the pain when I think about Mrs. Kher. All the times when I thought I should have expressed, I did not. Rather I could not.
The inability to put my feelings in words, probably, left her unaware of my feelings. The deeds weren’t expressive either.
She did not talk much. I wish the eternities could bundle up into a moment, the present one; and I could bring her back and tell her how much she meant to me. I miss her all the more when I realize that I have no one to talk to. I only wish she is conveyed of my love for her in any form possible, wherever she may be.
Tears are deceivers. I am smiling as I am thinking of her. But the pain is excruciating.
Shubh and Geeta will suffer like me if they don’t express. But again the question boils down to one thing. Is really the love which is meant to be there, there? There’s nothing that justifies that the two should be together except my stupid imagery.
Shubh’s here. He is walking towards me. Geeta is not with him. He waits for an eye contact with me.
Today I initiate. “Hello son.”
“The watchman must be right there.”
He smiles. He looks around. The watchman isn’t there. He looks up at me again.
“Uncle, are you watching a movie on the laptop?” he smiles at the oldie trying to handle a laptop.
“Umm….no no, son. Just jotting down a few things.”
“What’s your name?”, I ask Shubh.
“Shubha_____….”, he replies.
I assume and reiterate, “Shubhashish, beautiful name.”
“No uncle, it’s Shubhadeep”, he smiles.
“Oh… and where’s your friend?” I blurt out uncontrollably.
“Who? Geeta? Or Gaurav?” he pretends.
“I am asking about the lady. She was with you the other day.”, I try to cover up my statements.
“Yeah, she is out of town.”, he replies and recedes. We do not have eye contact anymore.
“Ohh, Goodnight Shubh….a….deep”, I manage.
“Goodnight……, Uncle?”, he asks my name.
“I reply, Kher, Shubhashish Kher”
I throw a high five in the air. He retorts.
I feel better.
Onto Chapter 9: From the diary...IX
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