Deadly is loneliness!

This is just a reciprocation to my poem 'Resilience, O! NO’, where the wife desserts her distrustful husband.

 

“Have I done the right,” thought he,

“Have I heard her bewail painfully,

have I noticed her agony deep and

have I sensed her curse so strong?”

 

No, not; turned I and walked away,

heartless and sightless instead.

Doubtless couldn’t I be to trust her;

down words of hers fell into deaf ears.

 

Patience from me had absconded,

rage taking reign around in hand

painted scarlet on her spongy cheeks

that once had blushed in crimson.

 

Yet, she could withstand things all

for her precious darling, O! Mine too

 to dismiss him from being an orphan half

and uphold status hers, as my better half.

 

The softness of slightest degree from me

might have sought stairs for us to rise;

spoiled the tranquil, my suspicion;

stayed she deadened to my action.

Tasted she bitters the most at my step,

the step of DNA-test for the son,                             

Packing her bags and picking up the dear,

Dashed she to her parents for solace.

 

This deadly loneliness will kill me

On a recap, look things very lucid;

Yes, you are guiltless, you are my honey,

And my little darling, you are my blood.”

Roughness, not my Fault!

Ash Tree

Birds prey on my fruit;

Kids play in my shade and use

 People all my parts.

Why do you be, from

Me, away? Come to my shade,

Lonely when you feel.

Now I grow old, my

Looks lose luster, all that are

My pals, dessert me.

Young of us, youths choose;

Creases will conquer charm of

Both, pale will grow bark.

Your Tree Ash am

 I; coarse now becomes my bark,

I lose my splendor.

Roughness, not my fault

Ruining my lure brings wrinkles,

Time on handsome me.


Picture From Google

http://chevrefeuillescarpediem.blogspot.in/

Yonder stands my Eden!

This image from writetribe has crafted a story in my mind and that is it.

Yonder stands my much preferred abode.  My pop’s ever travelling buddy, his mobile fully obeys whatever instructions he gives. So as per his passion his mobile pal used to absorb at the fullest the gorgeous appeal of these environs during one of our morning walks. This snapshot is the upshot of one such instruction.

These environs surrounding our haven truly convert it into our Eden. Yes, it was once, no still it is, it is a heaven. We get up at five o’ clock every day, get into some morning walk suit; our hind limbs carry us to the areas of schedule. Towards the conclusion of our stride we slow down our paces and we position our ‘selves’ on this passageway. We spend a few minutes near these pretty trees that pass a smile lovely to us. We, I mean my pop, mom, my twin sister, Keerthika and I, Karthika.

 See the photograph, our dear care taker, our home has not opened her eyes fully. She is hesitant to leave her bed and come out in the open. The weather mother of hers has swathed her in a foggy blanket of satin look. She sleeps snug in her arms. Flowers slowly look up and pass a grin to the zenith seen above. The birds practise yet their yoga exercises flapping the wings in the nests. And they will collect energy enough for their day’s destined duty. After allowing us to suck up the splendor of Nature, our two-wheeled carriers progress towards our care taker, home. She looks after all of us extending the required kindliness.  This is the practice and pattern of our life when our dear father steps in on his annual leave. We experience the real warmth of fatherhood in the gifts and hugs we obtain from him.

Now….but…

Crossing our preteens we reached the onset of teens. Our much affectionate dad decided to settle in this village. Our hilarity climbed hills when we moved into our newly built dwelling here. This village fulfills all our needs for our domestic, educational and personal functioning. Life travels on tarred roads with no hitch or hindrance. Whenever my pop is away after the leave, we see him every day at about 9pm.Thanks to modern technology.

“Have you both completed your homework? Come let’s talk to your papa,” mom as usual.

“Yes, mom, we are just coming.”

Mama was pampering her laptop in her lap.

“Phone bell, Kaathu, go and take.”

The receiver is in my hand, the news that pierced my ear deafens me, strikes me dumb; I fall fainted. I regain sense and I open my eyes.The entire kindred including mom and Keerthika are standing around my bed. I don’t understand anything. Recollection gently creeps to the reminiscence of events. I look up and my eyes rummage around in eyes and eyes to read deep melancholy at my dad's final adieu.A sign of relief looms there.

“ Your dad is safe,” Mama breaks the silence, “It was a mistake on authorities’ side.Within seconds they apologized.”

 A bomb had blasted in the Army cantt: at Kashmir claiming a few military lives. My dear dad, Col. Sreekumar is an occupant there. Another person having some similitude with my most beloved dad had fallen prey to the blast. The authorities mistook it as my dad. Immediately information flew along the length and breadth of the country. The authorities utilized words of all kinds to express regret and repentance for their overlook.

My lips and eyes move in gratitude to the Almighty. RIP, the bereaved. My heart aches for them too. And I wait for the night for my Dad's call and the incident mine he is ignorant of.