Watching the sunset /
with your hand on my shoulder /
It was our last

Rudderless amidst a storm. In the scene, but out of focus. Mind is numb. No words come to the lips. Just your absence surrounds me. It’s hurting more than usual this year.

I took out the bag of things yesterday. Things that belonged to you, that I associated with you. Tragedy is that my wedding bangles, the pink dupatta that was used to tie my kurta to Agam’a kurta for our pheras was also in the same bag. Your lacquer black glasses, your favorite box of meaningless treasures, your linen shirt that I absolutely loved to see you in, all wrapped together in a red satin bag.

I hugged your shirt, wore your glasses and cried to my heart’s delight. Then I took out the bangles and showed them to Tara. She can have them now. It was my attempt to lighten the load. Let go of some heaviness in my heart.

12 years since you took flight. 12 years since I changed forever.

Yesterday at the gurudwara, a little kid came running towards Tara and me. He looked at me and smiled as if he knew me. Then he looked at Tara and his smile widened. He looked at the two of us for sometime, didn’t say a word, and ran back to his father. And I wondered if it was you, visiting us, in another form of life.

Those who have lost someone, look for the their lost one, in everyone. That is who I have become. I’m not waiting for you to show up. But I will assume there is part of you in everyone who has ever been kind to me, or cared for me, just like you did. There are a few I can count on. But it’s quite lonely without you, Papa.