pilgrim’s blog

Behind the door

Lies the balm

To my heart sore

That refuses to be calm

I stretch my arms

To fling it open

But the qualm

Forces my limbs to soften

 I squirm, I fret

The lack of steel  

Pushes me into

The cavern of regret

The forces opposite

Squash my breath

I gasp like the fish

On the verge of death

I beg for mercy

Knowing my sin

To be born

With no strength within

The trees stood in a row their branches touching each other making them look like little children standing holding hands together. The curtain of mist was thinning making way for the sun’s rays to seep in through their branches. Just before the final adieu, as the mist caressed the sun rays these trees looked ethereal.

The trees were the same, the morning was the same, the mud path disappearing among the trees was the same, she was the same but he had changed. He had changed when he had left her on that morning exactly like the one she was watching today, unfold in front of her tired eyes..tired because of waiting for him. When the mist and the sun rays were making love to each other he had slipped out of the house silently never to return.

It was the very next day of their marriage, a marriage that was arranged by their parents. He was her paternal aunt’s son. It was as if they were meant to be together. Hence when their marriage was announced there was no element of surprise in it. She was the only daughter to her parents and had just turned sixteen that month, the right age for a girl to get married during those days. He had only then acquired a degree in medicine from Burma, the present Myanmar. It was a status symbol in those days among well to do families in Kerala to send their members to Burma for pursuing higher studies.

In the matriarchal set up of the Nair families of Kerala the uncle of the child had a stronger say in deciding its future than its father. So during those days no boy would have the courage to stand up to his uncle to voice his opinion about his future. Sekharan too had to face the same dilemma. He did not have the courage to tell his uncle that he could not marry his daughter.

But on the night of their marriage he opened his heart to her. With head lowered he stood before her. She stood with her eyes lowered trying hard to hide the dreams in them from all even her husband. In a hushed voice that should have called out her name that night but did not, he said to her he could not stay by her side as in far away Burma he had a wife and little son awaiting his return.

Surprisingly no tears had flowed out of her eyes. She was thankful for she did not want her dreams to be drowned in them. After all she had only them left for company. They had remained by her side steadfast and now she felt it was not in vain. His son was coming to visit her. It was his father’s wish that the ashes should be handed over to her, she was told by him, through a relative of hers as she did not know his mother tongue or English that would have enabled her to converse with him.

But then no words were required when through the mist he walked up to her and looked at her with eyes so much like his fathers……