and I wonder...
how long will it be before the rocking chair by the window is un-shadowed by the outline
of his white dhoti and kurta,
a newspaper in his hands, while other pages lie
scattered on the floor, within easy reach?
how long before the uneven flagstones in the portico
stop echoing the equally uneven step
of his refused-to-be-stopped arthritic feet
that accompanied the watering pipe
in the garden?
how long before the telephone and doorbell
stop being answered by the memory of a welcoming 'coming'
no matter who stands there?
Like Carroll's Cat
the smile hangs over the house
partnering the twinkle in the eye
on the slightly-tilted head
as if to say
I'm here, I'm here.
Feelings never go anywhere
Nor do memories.
As long as they live
so do people.
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I drop the remote and look around guiltily,
It dawns on me that my guilt will not be met by Thatha's smile and warning,
I walk into the kitchen,
Everything shines in the sunlight...
Well, not everything.
The toaster is covered by a blanket of dust,
Suddenly, i hear a cry of pain,
My feet pull me towards the cry.
I land up in thatha's bedroom.
What i see there surprises me...
The computer crying for his master,
He longs to play chess and speak to the relatives of one such M.V. Pattabhiraman
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