When the cuckoo in the clock popped it’s tongue out at one, I was still staring at the vastness of the sable sky.
I had my eyes glued to the sapphire sky, slowly giving way to darkness. The way how sun slowly sunk down into an invisible realm of his own and the moon appeared with a fresh coat of silver was something that always captivated me. Sometimes I wondered whether the sun and moon were lovers- the sun disappearing to see the moon grace the velvety sky and the moon vanishing to see the sun lighting up the whole damn world.
And even as the needle in the clock keeps swinging, I don’t feel like taking my eyes of the magnificent display Mother Nature has woven up there in the sky. The disc of moon glistens- the halo, her spotlight- amidst a splatter of a million stars which seems to be like diamond dust or maybe beacons of hope suspended in the inky sky, for many broken people like myself.
And as the thought of myself being a shattered crosses my mind, a sigh escapes my lips. It’s been too long. A corner of my lips which always touched my ears, now seems to have forgotten how to smile. Oh! I am sorry. They do create a curve, turning into wry smiles each time I think of myself as a dying wreck. But those Cheshire Cat grins, will they ever return back?
As the rain starts to shower down, a huge chest of memories unlocks itself behind the bulge of my eyes. The sweet ones on roll first with the bittersweet and bitter ones making it’s way in gradually.
Ma, I miss you. It’s heavy emptiness. A life without you is like a garden without redolent blossoms. How can emptiness be so hefty? I don’t know. This feeling is inexplicable. The least I can do to explain what I’m going through is to say that a zillion knives are pricking my heart, all together. Even that sentence doesn’t capture my feelings properly. Like, the 26 alphabets and the million plus words in the English language are insufficient to describe my present state.
Ma, your euphonious voice still echoes through my hollow bones- the very same mellifluous voice which lulled me off to sleep when I was a kid and even throughout my growing up years, when I dashed into your room saying that I’m scared: fear of ghosts, fear of exams and fear of many other things which kept consuming me at different stages of metamorphosis. The scent of your perfume still lingers through my lungs. The warmth of your uncountable cuddles and the tenderness of the soft kisses you planted on my brow, still stays alive in my cells. The heavenly taste of the myriad dishes you made still satiates my taste buds. Yes, I’m still breathing because of the infinite memories you weaved in the patchwork of my life.
Sleep has eluded me many moons back, Ma. The moment I shut my eyes, your lifeless body flashes in front of me. That deadly day which I wish to forget keeps whirring in the chambers of my chest. Now all that I can do is to keep staring at the blanket of sky, wishing for you to emerge out from among the scintillating stars like how it happened in many of the bed- time stories you narrated to the five year old me. I know it’s impossible, but Ma, as you always said, hope is the only anchor to an almost defunct soul.