Tag: Loss

Posted in Fiction

Black

Posted on by Shaily Agrawal

She was sitting next to where you lie, mother, all black, serious, and still.

I wanted to ask the traitor the same questions you would have–why she wasn’t around while you were still alive; when you needed to snuggle with her; when you cried for her all night?

But then, she had been out pursuing lord-knows-what.

Now, she finds the time to sit next to where you lie, mother, after you closed those beautiful eyes and left to pursue lord-knows-what; all teary-eyed and seeking forgiveness for neglecting you for all those lonely years; bringing fresh flowers; trying to take my place in your lap.

You could hardly blame me for scratching her face. I wish I had taken out her eyes…but they looked so much like your own.

Photo by Howell_eddie on Unsplash 

Posted in Fiction

The Nutcracker

Posted on by Shaily Agrawal

v2osk-eIiz51cVAck-unsplash

She wasn’t ready to part with the nutcracker yet. Everything else was sold—the house,  furniture, expensive clothes, and shoes—the reminders of their years together.

But the nutcracker they had bought on their last Christmas together before he went to the war…and came back in a box… ‘He’ would stay and bear witness that she remarried but never moved on.

Photo by v2osk on Unsplash

Posted in Fiction

At the End of the Rainbow

Posted on by Shaily Agrawal

I run a rosary in my gnarled fingers at peace with my aloneness. Then I hear it–my bane, the jingle of bangles and anklets.

Vexed, I grit my teeth.

Why does she wear the abomination? Of course, I know the reason–the custom. She still has a husband.

I picture her in my mind–standing in the kitchen, face glowing after a night full of love, in a saree of red… green… yellow… It was me many years back. Now white and cream mark the end of my rainbow.

Bile rises in my throat.

She hums a song I have loved all my life–it speaks of hope and love that I once had.

I crush the rosary in a death grip.

She drops something trivial and I lose it. I shout abuses at her and curse my stars for wedding her to my son. I shout until I’m hoarse and can shout no more. I shout until she’s in tears and smiles no more.

Placated, again, I hold my rosary to look for that elusive peace. Sure there will be hell to pay later, literally. But life isn’t exactly heaven for the likes of me.

Posted in Fiction, Poetry

Things I Do for You

Posted on by Shaily Agrawal

It’s my personal hell

In my little town–

The wall by the pond

We graffitied together

To scare the passers-by

Snickering all the time–

The one that we openly

Laughed at later…

How well you knew

I was scared too!

 

With you gone under,

I throng that place now

Even though it creeps me,

Knowing you too well,

Hoping you’ll come back,

To scare me.

Photo by Bryan Debin on Unsplash

Posted in Fiction

The Ripple Effect

Posted on by Shaily Agrawal

I am numb—

Serene sea.

 

One walks in and

Offers condolence—

A drop that sends ripples

Across me.

Then come the tidal waves

Of reality

Crashing against my being.

I attempt to reply

But tears rise and choke me.

I inhale to calm down.

But the stormy sea knows no bounds.

I go under—

Drowning the illusion of restraint,

Once again.

 

I turn to hide

Lest the world may see

What a wreck

You have made of me.

Wait until the numbness returns.

And I’ll, again, be the serene sea.

Photo by Joshua Qualls at Unsplash

Posted in Fiction

Often

Posted on by Shaily Agrawal

joel-naren-AoL49A-mQwk-unsplash

You visited me again last night.

 

All the time,

You struggled with words

Trying and failing to say

What I could hear

In your eyes anyway.

 

What I had wanted to hear, forever.

 

Your hand in mine

Sending shivers down my spine,

You walked alongside me

Like good old days

Making jokes and telling tales.

 

Then you paused.

 

You looked at me with eyes so sad.

I knew you’re holding back.

There was a time

You could have told me things.

You lament missing that chance.

 

I wish you’d say it

So I can kiss you this time.

 

But as always, I wake up

Feeling your hands in mine.

 

It seems to be the pattern.

Every night in dreams you meet me.

Every waking hour, I try to forget

What can never be.