Sunday, October 30, 2011

Follow her and you will find the sea...

That little old house with a garden on the side
for more than five decades I have called mine.
Since the day I opened my eyes to the world
she has been my support system, my guide.
I pondered way long back, through everything I ever saw, heard
she was my first sound,
She is my first memory.

With a kite-shaped bag on my back
clothes, shoes everything new
I stepped in a school for the very first time
I wasn't even two.
They laughed as I stuttered, was nervous as I spoke
I stood there blank, while a little heart fluttered and broke.

On my way back, I met her
She looked back at me with reciprocation of everything I felt
Without a word she listened as I narrated my day
Gave me water to calm me down and wipe the tears away.

I plucked a rose from the bush in the driveway
put on the best suit I had
Today was the day I finally decided to propose the girl
I loved, from afar.

I reached her place and knocked but no one answered the door
I stood there all day, I wasn't going to give up hope.
Finally at midnight a car came by
A dejected, teary-eyed old man hopped out, I reckon, her father
'I came to meet Kate, Sir...' and before I could say any more
He stopped me mid-sentence and with a sigh murmered 'she eloped.'

Heartbreak it was, everyone said
then why everything in the world appeared shattered
She walked by me, wordlessly as I sat down
breathless, battered.

They say the best friendships are the ones
where silence voices out everything desired
She was the epitome of care and patience
In a beautiful relationship we were wired.

Such was her presence in my life, I can never explain
She brought me back from the dead a million times
With every word I poured in her, she drank in all my pain.
If ever a day comes when you find I'm gone
take me to her because she is where I belong.

.
.
.

We scattered his ashes in her
she wept and with all her love took him in
A friend, A giver, A lover
Today, the world knows her as Ms. River.


© 2011 Neha Choudhry


0 comments:

Post a Comment