Photo by twentyonekoalas on Unsplash
Come inside my son
Father told in a feeble voice
You are completely drenched to the skin
It’s raining incessantly since morning
Why so late?
I was waiting for you, has it been days, months and years?
It is dark inside.
Now mother will light the lantern,
She has cleaned the glass with water soaked ash
to make it as bright as possible.
She knows you are afraid of the dark, son.
Not to worry about me, son,
for I learned to live in dark.
The one without no shape nor dimension against which to measure it.
Come inside son, do not drench in rain
or you will catch a cold.
Mother has prepared Kakara pitha made in jaggery with love and care
stuffed with grated coconut.
Because you cherish it.
Have some dear son
And then we will sit together
And discuss many things
Which I have been wanting to tell you for years now.
Yesterday your friend Shubham came
inquiring about you.
His father Sridhar passed away ten days ago.
The poor chap was suffering with damaged kidneys
Old age comes with many agonies and despairs.
Is there a panacea to cure it?
Maybe the eternal remedy is the solution.
Can I meet Sridhar once again? Perhaps.
The village pond is filled to the brim
With incessant Sravana rain
Bountiful fish of varieties are being collected in Mugura
Fire fin barb, olive barb, and slender rasbora in plenty!
I will ask Mania to bring the fish for you
Have it before you go back to the distant city once again.
The villagers decided to cut the peepal tree
Standing in backyard of our house for years and years now.
Me, my father and his father
all played under the tree along with friends of known and unknown.
Time passed without announcement and so the season changed innocently
Grandmother used to tell.
There seems to live a Brahmaraksha in that peepal tree.
Her mother-in-law used to tell when she came to the village as a new bride.
he had given a ring to your grandfather.
A value of pure gold.
Where is the ring now, I asked,
She laughed and stroked my back…
Son, look at the distant mountain
Alas, you can not see it
As it is pitch dark there,
The mountain perhaps slept enveloped in a thick black blanket
After a day-long events of embracing the clouds
As the night darkens and deepens there,
the witches will come out for a bonfire
wearing the white sarees,
and will scout aimlessly for what?
For another soul or to get Moksha?
Son, look at the rising northern star.
The middle one is father and two stars above him are his father and grandfather
How did father travel that far? The light years of eternal darkness and void.
Who guided him?
Son, I long to go there too.
When you no longer find me sitting by the verandah one evening and all evenings after that do not grieve.
Come to the balcony and look at the northern sky,
I will be waving my hand for you.
Dear son,
Is not life a quagmire?
From where do we come from, and where do we go?
Come morning,
I will show the Rangoon creeper
That you planted with your tiny hand as a young child
The tree is fully grown and laden with flowers
Its scent wafts through the open window and for a long time, it lingers like a sweet dream.
What are you doing there?
Sitting beneath the peepal tree
See dusk had already set in it will be dark now once again
It is time to come back home now. Yes father, I’m coming…
There will be another day and another life
And the saga will continue indefinitely.
A Light Through My Window 
Leave a reply to Anonymous Cancel reply