Eight years ago ..and its still Blue!

It was blue, a deathly blue ...over and over ...coats and coats of blue ..the sea, the skies, the sorrow ,all the shades awash on that landscape .....



You ..You made a valiant effort to wash them away with Your tears ..but No they would not stop ..no longer a slave to your command...Till it was the color blue in a watery curtain over that landscape .....a curtain draped over Your eyes ..maybe to numb the memories a little .....maybe to sweeten the loss a little....Ahhh Yes You tried ! The strong arm draped around Your shoulder began to falter ..the squeeze that lent strength to Your being was beginning to weaken ..and then He bent ..weak , fragile .. He walks to the side on the pretext of buying a book ...and for a minute You're left alone ..alone in the swirling mass of people ..orange ..green and a shade of red ..joy, sadness ,envy all form a maddening collage around You ..but all You can see is blue .....the blue of pride in the pinstripe that cloaks his guilt ..his guilt and Your pride ... distant yet emboldened by the same hue ...he smiles confused , waves ...and You see blue in the bottle of mineral water that He carries rushing , overwhelmed ..You feel trapped ..the water gushing out of the spout of the transparency of the container ..resisting ..just like You .....that whirlpool of a thousand images ... a series of photographs ..that You so passionately collected..each finding individuality in the blinding continuity that You weaved them into ..his life .. you dwell on it .....He holds it strong , the bottle of water , and he holds it too .. nobody willing to let go ... one taking , one giving .. but who was to take responsibility for this moment ? You disengage it from His hands ..and slip Your hand into His, as He lets go , as He always has , hands numb from gripping the bottle too tightly, the lines of fate running deeper ,inscribed in blue .....Ah a welcome respite ..a chaiwalla . little earthern pots carrying the elixir ...He fumbles , takes out crumpled rupee notes ..change from the taxi walla .. always in a separate pocket in His bush-shirt ,bargains out of habit ...insists on paying ... that man ..that MAN ..holds out for mortgage the tears in His eyes.. for a few minutes of control ..shielded in a few crumpled rupee notes .. ...They did not cry anymore .....I was there..I was there ...as they let the birds fly ...the birds flew into the sky ... eight years ago .. ...and all They could see was blue ......blue in the smoke of the Rajdhani as he waved goodbye ...Blue in the waters that separated them eventually ... Ma,Papa that was eight years ago .. ...Diwali is here again and I paint the same picture that stood still in time.. ...and yes Im happy .....No . Im wishing I could step back into that photo frame again .....for this diwali I'm wishing you light me a candle ...to show me the way when i beat the long dreary lonely path...Back home!! ...