Mouth-watering paranthas simmering
on the flaming tawa. Reanimating tea brewing in the pan. Silken voice of
newsreader from radio on the ebony wooden shelf. Amber newspaper pages
fluttering on the varnished cane table basking in the morning sun. And you
watering the cuddly plants in your alluring garden. Smiling at the freshly ventilated
buds sneaking through the green hoods. The sweet aroma of the lemon tree
standing tall in the middle guarding the nearby naughty dahlias. Fresh mint
caressing the scarlet demure tomatoes every now and then. And you whistling
your favourite song carelessly oblivious of the happiness and melody being transpired
to the passers-by on the bitumen road. Browns, oranges, yellows, greys, blacks,
whites, all catching a slice of life from your sprite and frolic. Dork phone ringing
on the resolute dining table. Your resonance at the other end meant breath, joy,
peace and life.
Your words only silence now. Rivers
emptying into oceans. Jabbering with you took solace in meditation. Your words sometimes
meet the eye in paragraphs of a scripture. Your smiles reflected only through
the clouds. Your peace transforming into restlessness. Meeting you only through
the morning mirror. And your prankster sprouting into a combatant warrior.
