Hunter

The morning alarm woke me up from my slumber, and I stretched myself in bed. Suddenly I sensed emptiness by my side. I looked right, over to the side where she slept. She was not there. I looked away, and closed my eyes for a while. Then I sat up in bed, and covered my face with my palms. I shouldn’t have shouted at her, I told myself. I knew that I had crossed the line. Now I realized how hurt she would have felt with my outburst. I was ashamed with my act. I had a lot of pressure in mind, and I released the frustration on her. Her fault; just that she was in front of me at that moment. God, I knew I could never forgive myself. It had happened in the past, and of late it was getting more frequent. I had to apologize. And make up for all my faults. But something caught my eye in the distance.

On the doorknob, there was a small note. I got up and went to the door. I picked up the folded paper with my hand and opened it. It was from her. Her handwriting. I felt relieved. But something was different.

“Honey,

It’s a new day today, so the best is yet to come… look ahead.

D.D.”

I read it over and over again. Did she forgive me, I wondered. But then again, I did not feel too optimistic. Then I walked to the bathroom. I splashed some water to refresh myself. The water was already hot. I was surprised. I couldn’t believe that she had actually heated water for me. She always used to push me out of bed to heat the water for us. Well today was a different day. I spent a long time in the shower, feeling the water cleanse me of drowsiness. The sensation of warm water hitting my skin gave me the goose bumps. But it was relaxing. I turned off the shower and grabbed a towel. Wrapping the towel around me, I drew aside the shower curtain. There was a lot of steam in the bathroom. I navigated to the door and opened it. Slowly the mist wafted away. I turned to the cabinet to take out my shaving kit. And then I get my second surprise…

The steam had misted the mirror, but I could clearly discern words on the glass. Once again, I recognize her handwriting.

“Honey,

Surely you have enjoyed your shower. I hope you are now fresh for the new day ahead.

D.D.”

The message seemed to have a deeper meaning. I did not know yet what it meant. But then again, I knew that she had forgiven me. It was typical of her. With a smile on my face, I wiped off the mirror.

With the towel wrapped around me, I walked to the kitchen. I was pretty laid-back at home. I did what I wanted, even wore what I wanted. I opened the fridge to take out some milk, and there, once again, I see a note on the milk carton. It was obviously her note. I opened it, and couldn’t believe my luck.

“Honey,

Your breakfast is ready. You will find it in the microwave oven. Please heat the food. I don’t want you to get an upset stomach. You will get a fresh start today.

D.D.”

And I couldn’t have asked for a better start. She had prepared pancakes and eggs for me. I sat at the table, relishing every moment of this breakfast. But I wondered where she was now. I looked around the room and saw her handbag missing. She had gone to the studio. Well, I thought, I guess I have to return the goodness. I called up office, and told them that I wouldn’t be coming in. Then I sat in the couch, trying to figure out what to do. The curtains were still closed, and my eye trained on a solitary candle upon the showcase. It was right in front of her photograph. I got up and walked towards it. I picked up the photograph. I looked at her face intently. She had an infectious smile and a graceful look. She looked happy, happier than present times. And even through all the troubles I had put her through, she still turned it round and returned love. Guiltiness overcame me. But just then, the flickering flame reflecting from the photograph gave me an idea.

By the time I was almost done with implementing my plan, I heard the phone ring. It was a cordless set, and the surprise I had planned for her had made it difficult to locate the phone. Somehow I managed to pick up the call. I was breathing hard from the effort. But when I heard her on the phone, I held my breath. I wanted to apologize to her that moment. But the words never came out. Instead, I listened to her intently and carefully. She wanted to check on how my day was. Magical, I thought, but I didn’t tell her. I was still skeptical. And then at the point of putting down the phone, she had one more thing to tell me. I was still silent. A short pause, and she told me to meet her at the studio. It was important. Had she finally forgiven me? I certainly hoped so. I told her that I too have something to show her. But she cut me off, telling me that I needn’t worry, the best was yet to come. And the phone went dead.

I looked at my watch. I had one and a half hours before meeting her at the studio. I got dressed very quickly. I knew I would have to move through peak traffic. Reaching her place on time seemed hard. Somehow I managed to get out of the house in twenty minutes. As expected, a traffic jam loomed ahead. Almost forty-five minutes later, I found myself moving at a snail’s pace. I was getting frustrated. But when I looked out of the window, I noticed a florist’s. I was close to the sidewalk, so I parked my vehicle on the side. I walked into the store and asked for violet petunias. She adored them. These were the very flowers that got me her approval. The storekeeper had a good stock of them. Picking up a score of petunias, I rushed back to the car and drove right into traffic. To pass the time constructively, I took out a pen and wrote a small note for her.

“Honey,

Today is by far the best day of my life with you. And I too have something for you. Don’t worry, and like you said, the best is still to come.”

I placed the note amongst the delicate petunias. They lay at the passenger seat by my side. I was getting excited of meeting her. It felt like falling in love once again. I as inched closer to the studio, I thought over how to bring her home. Probably take her out for lunch… No… I would takeaway some lunch… Or maybe even have the food delivered home while I am at the studio with her… Yes… Then I would take her home… Close her eyes while I darken the living room with all curtains shut… Probably light up the candles while her eyes are closed… No, maybe she can help me out lighting them all… Lavender scented ones, yes… Sit at the couch with a glass of her favorite wine listening to her love songs, her talks, feel the warmth of her tender and delectable lips, sharing a priceless moment of privacy together…

The cacophony of blaring horns behind my vehicle snatched the fantasy away from me. The signal ahead was green, and I had not moved my car. Embarrassed, I shifted gears and sped away. But I could not help but notice a sly smile on my face.

I was about eight minutes late when I arrived at the studio. When I entered, I saw a sea of familiar faces. Even though I had been here before, I still felt out of place. But when I saw her, I relaxed a bit, wary of her anger. I expected her wrath, since I had come in late. But to my surprise, she greeted me with a smile. I went forward to greet her with a kiss, but she offered a cheek. I found it odd, for she was quite open with our relationship. She asked me how my day was. I told her that I followed her every instruction and it turned out to be a great day. In return I gave her the violet petunias. The sight of the flowers brought that familiar glow to her face. I was mesmerized. I came close to her, and picked up a faint scent of ‘Sheseido’. It was the perfume that aroused my senses. I whispered into her ears, telling her that I had a small surprise for her. She smiled back and told me that she first wanted to show me something.

She turned around and then back again, holding a folder in hand. I looked at her questioningly. She gestured me to open it. I opened the folder, sensing the worst. But it was a song script. It was full of notes and lyrics. “Hunter” was its title. She told me that it was a song she had written for me. I was touched. It was the most romantic thing that she had ever done for me. I looked at her lovingly. I offered her a hug, but she asked me if I wanted to hear the song. Feeling awkward with my raised arms, I discreetly put them down and nodded. She smiled and told me to sit and listen from the control room. And then she left.

In the control room, the sound engineer handed me the headphones. I looked at her proudly. I told the guys there that she wrote a song for me. They nodded their heads, uninterested. But I didn’t care. I was still proud of her. She looked at me for a while. I returned her gaze. Then she motioned me wear the headphones. The live room was sound proof. When I wore it, she came to the microphone. She asked me if I remembered her telling me that the best was yet to come. I nodded and smiled. She smiled back and told that that moment is now. Once again, she told me that she wrote this song for me. I smiled back at her and gave her a thumbs-up. She smiled back, and then told the team to start the music. And I sat back, listening to the rhythm.

As she started the first stanza, I did not know where she was going with the song. But as she proceeded to the second stanza, I knew something was wrong. I opened the folder and read the lyrics, in horror.

“With one light on in one room

I know you’re up when I get home

With one small step upon the stair

I know your look when I get back

If you were a king, a pharaoh on your throne

Would you be wise enough to let me go

For this queen you think you own

Wants to be a hunter again

I want to see the world alone again

To take a chance on life again

So let me go…

Your red book, a painful look

The TV’s on, the sound is down

One long pause, then you begin

Oh look what’s the cat brought in

If you were a king, a pharaoh on your throne

Would you be wise enough to let me go

For this queen you think you own

Wants to be a hunter again

I want to see the world alone again

To take a chance on life again

So let me go… let me leave…

For the crown you’ve placed upon my head feels too heavy now

And I don’t know what to say to you, but I’ll smile anyhow

And all the time I’m thinking, thinking…

(I want to be a hunter again

I want to see the world alone again

To take a chance on life again

So let me go… ) X 2

Let me leave… let me go…”

I was speechless. I closed the folder. I read the title of the song. Hunter. I never imagined its contents would be so strong. I looked at her. She was looking at me. Deeply. I felt her stare burn right through me. And I saw a tear trickle down her cheek. Sadness overcame me. I thought she had forgiven me. But she gave her answer through her song. I was devastated, not knowing what to say. The guys at the recording desk looked at me, confused. I suddenly felt vulnerable. I looked at her again, and saw her wipe the tears off her cheek. I got up to go to her, but she said no. I sat. She shook her head, and left. I knew it was over.

I left the studio, frustrated and dejected as ever. I got to my car and looked across the car park. I caught a glimpse of her getting into her car. I watched her drive away. Gloomy, I sat in my car for a while. Then I saw something caught in the windscreen wipers. I stretched across to retrieve it. It was a folded note. Her note. I opened it and read its contents. Tears were brimming in my eyes at that moment.

“Honey,

I know you are wise enough to let me go. Only then will I get another chance on life again. It’s the best for us both, so let me go…

D.D.”

(The lyrics are from Dido’s single, “Hunter”. That’s the inspiration to this piece.)

Journey of love - IV (A daughter - II)

That Saturday, I managed to take a weekly off for Amy’s concert. My parents and in-laws told that they were coming too. The day before, I called my wife and told her that I was going to the mall to pick up a small gift for Amy. As I roved the shelves of the shopping complex, I searched for the one doll that my wife knew Amy would like. About a while later, I was heading home with a chocolate brown teddy with a light blue bow – tie. The color reminded me of the day Amy entered our lives. Two hours before the concert, Amy was impatient on getting into the car. Finally, after much persistence, she managed to pull us out of the house and into the car. When we reached the town hall, the crowd was already there. It was the investiture of the new mayor of the town, and Amy and her troupe were to perform in the cultural evening. Before I left Amy in the care of the ballet dancers, I told her that she looked real pretty. She asked, “How pretty, daddy?” I came close to her ears, and whispered with a wink, “So pretty, that you are giving your mom some serious competition.” Amy chuckled and looked over my shoulder at her mother. She stood with my parents, waving at Amy. The instructor took her away. I watched her disappear into the hall.

The ceremony was a boring one. We were impatient, waiting for the performance to begin. Finally, the cultural program began. My dad was prepared with the camcorder. The ballet started. I could spot Amy in the side. She was looking into the dark crowd. I stood up and waved my hand. She jumped up and waved back, all excited. I was amazed; she did not show any signs of stage fright. My colleagues wished me luck as the performance began. I watched the dance intensely. Her every move and step; they were flawless. She was so focused for her age. And she always smiled. I smiled too. Until….

As she moved for the final turn on the stage, I noticed that she was not smiling. Instead, she was panting. Instinctively, I knew that something was not right. I held my wife’s hand as I watched Amy take her final leap on the stage. But she did not. All of a sudden, she stopped in her tracks. I was unsure of what was going on. Amy looked in our direction, her eyes rolled, and she collapsed. Our little went into some kind of convulsions. As the hall erupted in concern, time slowed down as I looked at my daughter. I read her lips. She said slowly,

“Help me, daddy….”

My wife let out a shriek. I left her hand and raced to the stage. The other ballet dancers gathered to a side, scared by what was happening to little Amy. I rushed to Amy’s side and picked her up. “I AM TAKING HER TO THE HOSPITAL!!!” I shouted out to my family. As I carried Amy in my arms, she felt so frail. No, I thought, maybe it’s the dress that she’s wearing. “Amelia!” I told her, “Stay with me. Daddy is here now.” I headed to the car, and my wife was in the driver’s seat. She said that she would drive. I sat in the backseat with Amy in my arms. We got to the nearest hospital quickly. Thankfully, there was no traffic on the road. As soon as the car drew to a halt, I got out with Amy in my arms and rushed to the casualty ward. I entered the ward, with tears in my eyes. “HELP ME HERE!!” I shouted, “MY BABY IS NOT WELL!!” A nurse rushed to my side with a stretcher and put Amy on it. As we wheeled her into the emergency room, I looked at my girl. She was unconscious and sweaty. I was so scared that I could not control my emotions. Soon my wife came to my side, and I hugged her, not wanting to let go. I wanted this to stop. But it didn’t.

The doctor called us to his office. We asked him, “How’s our girl?” He looked at me slowly, then away, and said, “I think it’s better if you first sit down.” I know people and situations, and I knew that I was going to hear something bad. I sat down with my wife. I held her hand. She was tense. She had every reason to be so. I patted her had comfortingly and told her that we will see this through. I looked at the doctor. He was grim. “Well doctor,” I asked, “What’s wrong with my daughter?”
“She has a heart problem.”

I was shocked. I thought of many things, but never expected this. My wife was already crying on my shoulder. I controlled the tears in my eyes. “Will she be fine?” I asked him, “When can we take her home?”
“You cannot take her home.”
“Why not?”

“I hate to tell you like this, but Amelia will not be with us for long.”

My wife opened the door to Amy’s ward. She looked frail. And there were many tubes in and out of her body. My wife went to Amy’s side and sat with her. My mind was still reeling of the meeting with the doctor. He told us that Amy had a rare heart problem where her heart was working too hard. One of her heart valves was deformed. The tragic part was that her condition was at an advanced stage, and there was nothing that the doctor could do. I was lost in thoughts. I wondered what I would have to do next. I looked at my family in front of me. I saw my wife and my daughter. She was lying in bed with Amelia. Their eyes were closed and my wife placed a gentle hand on her sleeping child’s heart. The same scene was reminiscent in my memory. It was Déjà vu. The only difference was that earlier, my wife and daughter slept the same way on first day Amy came to us. And now, Amy was leaving us, the same way.

A year later, I sat at the dining table. My wife sat opposite me. I was reading the newspaper. But I sensed that my wife was looking at me. I kept the paper down. I looked at her. I read her face. But I did not want to do that. I got up to go to work. “I will be a little late today dear. Clive wants me to work an extra hour. I will get some food….”
“Dear….”
“… so I will tell Martina to get the laundry and…”
“YOU ARE NOT HEARING ME!!!”

I very well knew what she was going to say. I sighed. “I cannot do it,” I told her, “I cannot forget.” She got up and came over to my side. Emotions were getting the better of me. She sat next to me and held my hand. I gripped it tightly. I looked at her. “My dear,” she said slowly, “you don’t have to remember. You have to let it go. It has not been easy for me, but can’t you see, I am still here with you. We have struggled in the past, and I am sure that we will face our difficulties with strength.”

I sighed. She was right. We really struggled in the year past, since Amy’s sudden illness. In fact, it was year since her diagnosis. The words of the doctor still rang in my mind, crumbling my weak heart. My wife slowly squeezed my hand. I looked at her. She was looking in my eyes, for some sign of comfort. I forced a smile, and gave her hug. But I did not speak. Instead, I held her for a while, in utter silence. She held my embrace. Then I told her, “I think I will go upstairs for a while.” She looked at me, concerned. I caught her look and smiled, telling her, “Don’t worry, I am okay.” She returned my smile and went back to her cooking.

As I walked up the stairs, my mind went up in memory of my beloved daughter. It reminded me of the moments she used to run up the stairs, tagging her dolls and satin ballet shoes. When I reached her room, I paused as I placed my hand door handle. I closed my eyes and filtered out my worries. Finally, my mind was clear. And I opened the door.

The room was pretty much like it was since she was admitted in the hospital. It was neat, with all her toys neatly arranged, but looked untouched. As my sight shifted to the bed, I saw a teddy bear. It was the same one I had given her on the day of her diagnosis. It was laid on the bed, with its feet and torso tucked neatly under the covers. The bed cover was ruffled. I went over the side, and sat there. I placed my hand on the crumpled cover gently. And then, there was a movement. I just looked on as I pulled down the covers. And there I see a small figure, curled to a side, with eyes closed. It was my daughter, Amelia.

Yes, she recovered, and was saved in a nick of time through prayers and surgery. As I stroked her soft forehead, I remembered how she faltered through her first steps post surgery to the boisterous brat she had become now. And all her mischief had made her tired, pulling her into a deep slumber. I brushed her soft cheeks with my fingers, and it reminded me of how she laid in my arms for the first time. The brittle skin of my palm had stirred her, and her eyelids slowly fluttered to life. I looked at her, with a tear in my eye, and said softly, “Hello beautiful.” Her sleepy face slowly brightened with a smile. She sat up and wiped the tear off my cheek, asking, “Why are you crying daddy?”

I just looked at her with a smile, and told her, “It’s nothing dear. Well I…” I fumbled, “I love you, Amy.” She smiled even more and hugged me, saying, “I love you too, daddy.” I held her close, and rocked her slowly, repeating those same words. Then I felt it. It was déjà vu. Only this time, I was sure that I had kept her closer and above all, safer.

And now I felt content, completed with a loving wife and with the flame of my life, the only one, prettier than my wife.

And that was my daughter,
Amelia

Journey of love - IV ( A daughter - I)

That’s not just a word... it’s a labor of love, pain, trust, and joy. The only need of despair would arise at the point of losing her, forever.

I met her mom, six years before she brought a fulfilling joy and pride in my life. Her mom and I were in love, and were sure of a life in blissful, holy matrimony. Within six months of knowing her, I asked her hand. My spirits reaching dizzy heights, I got her immediate approval. Five years of courting her, and we knew that it was time to build our family. A year and two months later, our bundle of joy arrived, covered in soft blue towels.

We decided to call her Amelia. But tenderly, I whispered into her ear, “Amy”. In remembrance of a friend long lost but never forgotten, I was beginning to start a long journey with my little baby.

Mum and daughter entered our flowery entrance of the house, and it was a sweet homecoming. All close relatives were at home, to welcome mother and child. A warm light seemed to radiate from Amy’s luminescent face. I felt warm and tears trickled down my cheek. I sat at a chair and watched my little bundle of joy, passed around my relatives as a symbol of her first meeting with her extended family. I moved my head and caught the watchful gaze of my wife. Post pregnancy, she looked relieved, and overall, very beautiful. My love for her and grown by bounds and leaps. Suddenly I felt a slight, nimble tug at my sleeve. I looked down and saw Amy, in the arms of my mother, her sleepy eyes searching for a familiar expression on my face.

It was a lovely feeling, watching little Amy in her grandmother’s arms, resting on the shoulders that once supported and comforted me. My wife came over and caressed her child’s face. Her arms, wobbly as they were, stretched out to embrace her mother. It melted my heart. I hugged my wife, mother and little baby close. It was a moment I would cherish for a long time to come. The welcome party was short. My wife was tired from the long trip home. I took my child and wife upstairs to bed. Thankfully, the little one was sleeping soundly. As I laid Amy on the bed, I helped my wife into the bed covers. As I tucked them in bed, I knelt by her side, watching my wife admire our labor of love. I bent forward and gazed into my wife’s loving eyes. They were sparkling, and the next moment, tears welled up in her eyes. I kissed her eyelids, and ran my fingers through her hair. She looked up and smiled at me.

I whispered in her ear, “Thank you.” She chuckled and drew me nearer, saying, “No, thank you, for I wanted a girl.” I loved her, and when she told me that, I just wanted to cry. I kissed her, passionately, and felt revived. As I roved her long tresses with my fingers, I heard a small gurgle between us. I broke away, and looked at Amy. The little one was trying to sleep. I laughed quietly at the amusing situation, and so did my wife. I kissed her a quick second time, bent low to kiss my sleeping princess and smelt her hair. She smelt wonderful. I told my wife, “You need some rest. Go to sleep, sweetheart.” I left the room, in silence. Two souls were at rest inside, hearts beating almost in unison as mother and child slept in a warm embrace.

Years passed by. We grew up as a family. I got busy trying to cope up with work at the hotel and playing my role as the doting father for a sweet, cherubic little angel. The cons of my job included coming back home late, tired and weary, and when Amy was asleep. But no matter how much my wife protested I used to go quietly into Amy’s room and sit by her side. I developed a habit of watching her sleep. She curled up on her side, her nimble chest heaving in slow rhythm, and her eyes closed shut. Her face had the most serene expression that would always take away my weariness. I was so proud of her.

Soon I would feel my wife’s hands, gently resting on my shoulder so as not to startle me from my dreamy reality. I looked at my wife. She too had a smile on her face as she gazed at Amy. I caught her gaze and silently said, “I love you.” She understood. She wrapped her arms around my neck, kissed my cheek and called me to bed. She was right. I needed the rest. I nodded, and bent forward to kiss Amy goodnight. I wondered what she dreamt as she slept. The days to follow were busy, and I had to spend a lot of time at the hotel. She grew up quickly, and I made it a point to watch on her whenever I could. The days when I could spend and evening with her, I would sit at my couch and relax with her crawling at my legs.

She was already speaking with a few mistakes, making her as cute as possible. One fine day, while I sat with her on the couch, she started playing at my legs. “Daady, when I go to beach?” she would ask, with eyes sparkling. I would tell her. I told her, “Very soon, my precious.”

“No daady, I want to go soon,” she would say, tugging at my pants.

“Alright dear, I will take you on Friday. Just you, ‘daady’ and mommy.”

You would have heard the sweetest squeal of joy, as she continuously jumped on my legs. Unable to move much, she hugged my legs, and said, “Thank you daady. I love you shooo much.” I looked at my little one, clinging to my legs as tight as she could. I stretched and ruffled her hair. She giggled, tickled by the sensation. I lifted her up in my arm, and told her that I loved her too. Never in my life was I so sure of my words.

My little girl was a feisty one. And naughty too. She was on the move, never sitting silent at one spot. With her around, the house was as noisy as ever. I used to come home late, so I never experienced her ‘wrath’. Only on my off-days would I realize why my wife always grumbled in her sleep. The house would be in a mess, a havoc created by my daughter. Some days, I would tolerate her. On the other days though, she would cross the limit. When she does, I would call out loud, “AMELIA!!”

I don’t know how, or the reason why, but it works. Whatever she does, she stops and stares with concern. I return her stare, but with one of frustration. Immediately, tears welled in her eyes. She ran into her bedroom. When she left the room, there was a sudden emptiness. Unable to hold any longer, I went in after her. Her room was closed. But it was not locked. As I opened the door, I hadn’t the slightest clue that I would be changed man, forever.

I opened the door, and looked around. I managed to spot her white toes beneath the covers. I was sure I heard sobs. In an attempt to reconcile with her, I slipped in beside her. I laid my hand on her head. It was warm. “Honey,” I whispered. She moved. She stopped sobbing. As my fingers moved to her cheeks, I felt them moist.

“Honey, I am sorry,” I told her, “don’t get so sad.” Through the darkness, I saw her face me. She looked into my eyes, almost seeing right into me. I could feel it. I sat upright, and she got up too. “Daddy, I am sorry,” she said.

“Don’t be, dear,” I said, pushing the hair off her face, “I was just correcting you. Your mother loves you very much, and it would break her heart if you don’t listen to her. If you love mom and me, please listen to your mother. I love you very much, dear.”

She hugged me. I sat in silence, and patted her head. “I love you dad,” she said softly. I held her closer to me, saying, “I love you too.” I began to rock her gently. She again said, “I love you, dad,” to which I replied, “I love you too.” We continued repeating these words, and it seemed to go on forever. But there was something about that day. I felt nice in her arms. I felt a sense of longing, and it was a longing to keep her happy, as long as I could. But the way she hugged and held on to me, she felt so vulnerable. Sadly though, as she slowly drifted into sleep in my arms, I had a feeling that I was going to lose her. I put her slowly to bed, and left the room quietly.

My little girl was a lovely dancer. She was graceful with her steps and she seemed to float along the floor. It was pleasing to watch her twirl in front of the mirror. She came up to us as my wife and I sat at the couch, watching her. She said that she wanted to be a dancer. My wife smiled and told that Amy was the best dancer she had seen. Little Amy’s eyes gleamed with pride as she continued dancing. My wife was happy, for one reason, that Amy was not busy messing the living room. I put her in a dancing class, where the instructor told us that Amy was best suited for Ballet. I was enthralled. My wife jumped at me in excitement when I told her the news. We were hopping like mad in the living room, when little Amy stood there, happy, but not knowing what ‘ballet’ meant. To her it was ‘fun’. That time she was a six year old.

I saved up a small fortune for Amy’s classes, and I had never seen her so happy. She loved to dress in those small white frocks and dance with her satin shoes. At the dinner table, when we all sit down to eat, Amy would tell us of all she learnt in the class and school. As she talked to her mom, I looked at Amy’s face. She was bright and very happy too. That satisfied me. Then she came home to tell us one day that there was a concert at the town hall, where her class would give a performance. We were happy. At the hotel, I proudly gave my work buddies flyers of my girl’s concert. Most of them told that they would make it. I really wanted them to see how lovely my daughter was in her dance.

Contd.

Journey of love - III ( Birth)

The room was full of people. Here, I sat on the light blue bench. There was a lot of activity here, but my mind was elsewhere. I was preoccupied with tension. Trying to take my mind off, I looked at the surrounding area. There were many similar benches and the room was painted grass green. Oh, how I hated the color. I felt as though I was in a detention room, a result of disrupting my teacher’s class. But this was no detention room. And no, I had not quite done anything naughty. This place seemed to carry off an air of cleanliness. Occasionally, a few uniformed men and women were patrolling the area. I looked at the faces of those who occupied the various benches. They too seemed to wear a mask of anxiety. One by one, they were called into another room, and new individuals took their seats. Gazing at their looks got me more worried. I looked at my hands, and they were sweaty. I looked at my watch. It was 21:47. I heard cries down the corridor, raising the tensions in my mind. I covered my face with my sweaty palms, and closed my eyes in prayer. I needed to get through this ordeal. I was surrounded with many of my relatives, sitting outside an operation theatre, with my pregnant wife inside.

I started to get jumpy. I had to be inside the theatre. I paced through the corridor, waiting to meet the doctor supervising my wife’s delivery. The theatre door was white, and had tinted glasses on it. It prevented me from looking inside. As I tried to peer inside, I was startled when the door opened. I faced a man in a green uniform, complete with a green shower cap and mask. It was the doctor. “Hello,” he said with arms crossed, “can I help you, mate?” I stared back at him, and replied, “Yeah, you MUST!!” I continued, agitated, “I am the father of the unborn child my wife has been carrying since nine months. And I think I deserve to be with her in this critical moment!”

The doctor quickly apologized and called out, “NURSE! Get this man in, and hand him his scrubs.” He glanced at his watch and continued, “We better hurry.”

I stared at him and said sarcastically, “Yeah, I’d reckon that.”

My relatives bade their well wishes as a nurse rushed to my side, and led me to the washroom. There, she assisted me in wearing the green uniform, and sanitized my hands. She was talking about precautionary measures in the theatre, but I was pondering over the sight of my wife. I did not know how she would be coping with the situation. She often told me that she was ready for the baby, and anticipated its arrival. But it was easier said and done. When the nurse led me to the theatre, I was not sure if I was strong enough. As the door swung open, I saw a bright light focused on the operating table. It too was covered in green linen. There were a lot of people in green mufti surrounding the table. On the side, I saw a lot of equipment, and a tray full of scalpels and other instruments. The sight of the scalpels made me sick. I turned to the operating table. And there she was.

She was in pain. She was sweating a lot, and in tears. She was holding the cold steel railing so tight, that her dainty fingers were white and looked bloodless. Instinctively, I waded through the people, and gently touched her hand. I looked at her, but her eyes were shut. I looked at the doctor. He caught my sight, and nodded in approval. He waved two doctors off her side. I got even closer. The smell of spirit was in the air, but when I came close to her ear, I got the familiar scent of cherry blossoms. I whispered softly, “Hi honey.” She opened her swollen eyes. When she saw me, she cried even more. With one hand, I ran my fingers through her scented hair, and gently placed my other hand on her hand holding the railing. She looked through her moist eyes, and said, “Honey, I am so scared.”

“I too am scared. But we will get through this, dear,” I said, now holding her hand, “that’s why I came back for you.” She smiled for the first time, and it took some weight off my mind. But then, almost suddenly, she face distorted, and screamed out in pain.

The doctor called the shots, “Alright people, lets get it started. She is going into labor, so we better work fast. Do you get me?” All of them nodded. “And Mate?” he called out to me, “I want you to keep your wife calm. Can you do that for me?”

I stared at him for a while, and said, “Of course, I can!” I looked at her and told her softly, “Okay honey, I am with you. Hold my hand, and we will get through this.” She held my hand firmly, and nodded in pain. The nurse who helped me with my scrubs was on the other side of the table. She directed my wife, and instructed her to control her breathing. My wife seemed to calm down. When the doctor ordered my wife to ‘push’, she pushed hard. I felt her effort as she squeezed the blood out of my hand. I too winced in pain; I had not known my wife to be so strong. The nurse directed my wife’s breathing until the doctor called for another ‘push’. I held her hand firmly as she exerted herself. Then I heard the doctor say, “We have the head! PUSH!”

This time, she screamed she gave all she had. My head was close to hers as I closed my eyes in concentration. But suddenly, I heard something different. It was a soft gurgle, followed by faltering, short bursts of wailing. I opened my eyes and looked at my wife. She was exhausted, with her eyes closed. A slow smile writ across her sweaty flushed face. But the shrill screams were not coming from her. In fact, I could hear it from the doctor. I looked at the doctor questioningly. And then I corrected myself. It came from the bloodied little one in his arms. MY little one. The doctor came over with the child. “Congratulations mate, you are officially a pappy!” he said to me, with a smile of relief on his face. I thanked the doctor. Emotions were building within me, and I was speechless for the moment. The doctor looked at me for a while and said, “I think your girl is very beautiful.” I looked at my wife resting and replied, “Yeah, I love her even more right now.”

“Actually, I was talking about the pretty girl I have in my arms.”

I looked at him and looked at the child. It was a girl! My wife would simply freak out when she heard this new revelation. I carefully handled the child as the doctor placed the child in my arms. I heard the doctor say to another person in the room, “It’s a healthy girl born at 22:34.” I looked down at my bundle of joy. She was neatly wrapped in a soft towel and was moving. I was broken, and tears poured out of my eyes. I was holding my first child and it was a memorable moment. She too was crying, but slowed down to a sniffle. My eyes were slowly brimming with tears. Her eyes were barely visible, picking that feature from her mother. “Hello beautiful,” I whispered, slowly, “daddy’s here.”

I cradled my child close to my chest, fumbling with the towel she was wrapped in. The fine hair was matted on her scalp, as she smelt faintly of surgical spirit. I slowly brought my head close to hers, as she fumbled in my inexperienced arms. I felt the warmth of her as I pressed my ear to her wet head. As I closed my eyes, I could hear strange sounds she mumbled with my ear. I felt very light, and I had never felt like this before. As I traced my finger across her cheeks, I touched beauty. They were soft and pink. I lifted her tiny arm with a single finger and kissed her barely open hand. To my amazement, my baby responded by gripping my finger with her tiny hand. I was choking up. I was proud of my beautiful baby. And then, with tears streaming down my cheeks with unending flow of relief and joy, I kissed my pretty girl for the time.

I heard my wife stir. I turned to my wife and slowly placed our child by her side. She looked at me, groggy and asked me, “Well?” I looked at her through my moist eyes and smiled.

“You did fine.”

She looked at me, not getting what I was trying to tell her through thoughts. Slowly, I gestured with my eyes to look at our subdued child. When she looked at her, she gasped and burst with tears of joy. She could not stop saying OH My God! Over and over again. I watched her gently hold the baby. She sensed me staring at her. When she returned my glance, I bent forward and kissed her softly. And for once, my pretty wife ceased her tears. And she looked more radiant than before. I looked at our now sleeping child, and while caressing my tired wife’s cheeks, I simply said, “Thank you Honey.”

And I held my loving family together in a warm embrace, closer than ever.

You in the rain...

Yesterday as i walked home in the rain,


I saw my friends joyful, happy children rushing into the arms of their parents, little beggars playing in the muddy puddle, teenagers shyly walking next to each other, young lovers holding hands in the windy drizzle and an aged couple resting in each other's arms, watching love soak up the air....


i too stretched out my hand, but none held it, and then, a simple thought of you drifted in my mind, and i smiled...


because my heart is locked and secure, held together by your warm and beautiful soul.....

Journey of love - II (Morning Sickness)

The first rays of the morning sun crept from between the spaces of the Bamboo blinds, catching me unawares. I winced, and turned around, under the down feather covers of my bed. Slowly, I caught a subtle scent. With my eyes closed, a smile came across my face. My hand moved underneath the cover, feeling the soft bed linen. I stopped my hand when I felt the crumpled, yet warm side of my bed. I pulled over the bed covers, and looked at the pillow at my side. There was a slight cavity in it. I picked up the pillow and caught a whiff of its scent. It was that familiar fragrance. I got out of bed, and moved to the window. Those blinds were irritating me, waking me up from my dream world. As I adjusted the blinds, I watched the room go dark. Yes, this was more like my dream world. Fatigue overcame me, and I slowly lumbered to bed. I fell backwards, only to be caught by the softness of the bed. Suddenly, I heard the music player turn on, and play slow and beautiful Blues. I felt a hand on my shoulder. I touched it, holding it gently. It was warm, and VERY soft. Sensing someone come closer, I looked through the darkness.

“Hi honey,” I heard a voice say, softly, “slept well?”

My eyes were still not accustomed to the dark, but my hands reached out and touched the softest skin on any cheek. I heard a small giggle that simply raised my spirits. It seemed like a new day every time I had this wake up call. Feeling her soft satin cheeks, I mumbled in satisfaction. “What time is it?” I asked her quietly.

“Its six thirty, dear.”

“Hmmm…. I guess I can call in sick for just one day.”

Gently, I tugged her arms and pulled her to bed. She giggled softly as her head rested softly on my arm. Slowly, and gradually, I could see her face clearly. Her eyes were closed, and she was breathing softly. I used my free hand to prop a pillow against my head, so I could see her even better. The faint light that shone through the blinds was just right. As I gazed at her face, I saw her face streaked with ruffled, yet silky black hair. With my fingers, I lightly brushed off the curly strands of black hair that fell on her face. As I did that, I could faintly spot the freckles that dotted her skin. I slightly pinched her soft and supple cheeks, and I felt it tighten as she smiled. She turned her head and looked at me in the eyes. I could barely see her pupils. They were well hidden between her adorably soft and puffy eyelids. With my fingers, I softly caressed her lids. “Honey,” I whispered, “can I ask you something?”

“What is it dear?”

I smiled mischievously as remarked, “How come you have all that baby fat in your eyes?”

She paused a bit, and then let out a short laugh thumping me in the chest. I recoiled, saying, “Hey, what was that for?”

“Just for the fun of it. You are crossing the line.”

“Oh really? What’s wrong with that?” I questioned, coming close to her.

“Don’t get me started. First, you ar…”

I silenced her, putting a single finger to her lips. She looked at me, smiling as though she knew what was coming. And she guessed right. I looked into her eyes, and held that gaze for a while. Then I closed in on her, into her open arms. After a tender moment together, I rested my head by her side. We spoke a few words, and she told me of her previous day. This was by far the best part of the day. Nothing would ever compare to the tenderness we always shared at the beginning of every new day. Cradling me holding her, she asked me what I was going to do about work. I thought for a while, brainstorming for an excuse. But as I laid my head just below her neck, I found myself in another dilemma. Trying to concentrate, all I could get was the fragrant scent that emanated from her luscious locks, feeling the softness and firmness of her warm skin and the slow rhythmic beat of her heart. My head rose and fell on her heart as she heaved with every breath. Her nimble fingers roved through my messy hair, soothing my scalp with her touch. I gave in to the sensation, forgetting to think about an excuse. She whispered softly in my ears, “Honey,” she said lightly, “it’s a quarter to seven now.” I opened my eyes, and looked into her inquisitive eyes. “Hell,” I said, stretching my arms and wincing, “I am so sick and tired today.” Suddenly I opened my eyes, and stopped. She gave me a questioning look. “What’s wrong?” I thought for a while, and told her excitedly, “I think I got a plan.”

I reached across the bed and searched for the phone. I cursed under my breath. I love cordless sets, and I can NEVER get over the habit of placing the cordless set at all the places other than the phone pad. Pressing the intercom, I managed to trace the set to the kitchen. Crabby and drowsy, I willed myself out of the bed to retrieve the set. To my luck, all the rooms were dark, including the kitchen. I picked up the phone, and dialed my office number. “Martha? Hi, it me,” I said, trying to sound as weak as possible, “Listen, has Jimmy turned up?” “Ok, when he comes, tell him that I called. I don’t feel too well now, must be food poisoning.” I hear footsteps tiptoe towards me. “Yes, ok Martha, I will get the medical certificate.” “Right, I will be careful. You too take care, bye.” As I disconnected the phone, I felt her arms embrace me from behind. “Did they believe your story?” she asked me. Turned around, and gestured sheepishly, saying, “Piece of cake. I told her that it was something like morning sickness.” I laughed it out. She was quiet as she embraced me. Sensing something different, I held her, and asked, “Hey,” I poked, “why the show of ‘special love’?” She looked up and smiled. “It’s a strange coincidence.”

I released her and looked at her. “I don’t understand. What’s strange?” She wrapped her arms around me again, this time her grip was firmer and passionate. “It’s a weird coincidence that we both had ‘something like morning sickness’ today.” I laughed it out, and then, paused. It had hit me late. I lifted her head and looked into her eyes. There were tears welling up. “Honey, are you ok?” I asked her worried. She nodded and smiled as the tears trailed her cheeks. I looked closer into her eyes, and a smile came across my face. “Are you for real?” I asked her, excitedly. “As real as I can be, ‘big daddy’” she gushed through her tears. I went berserk. I lifted her off the floor, dancing around the kitchen. I put her down on the sofa, placing my hand gently on her tummy. Caressing her tummy, I told her happily, “You are going to be a mamma.” “And you are going to be a papa.” she said as more tears poured out. I got up and came closer, “Hey honey,” I said softly, “don’t cry sweetheart.” She looked at me and said, “I love you, honey.” I smiled, embracing and kissing in reply. “I love you too, darling.”

snippets of love...

i wrote this when i was leaving my hotel after work...

The night is cold and stars dot the dark sky,
i am sitting is the car-drop quietly as time passes by...

There is absolutely nothing for me to do,
but all i am doing right now is dreaming about you...

Good night my sweet lover and friend,
for we don't know how our sleep might end...

Cheers to the emotion called Love...
https://www.google.com/accounts/ServiceLogin?service=mail&passive=true&rm=false&continue=https%3A%2F%2Fmail.google.com%2Fmail%2F%3Fui%3Dhtml%26zy%3Dl&bsv=1k96igf4806cy&ss=1&ltmpl=default&ltmplcache=2&hl=en

Biscuit Crumbs on the Sidewalk..

A little boy stops by me, begging for alms, with a pained look in his eyes. I look at him and brush past him, ignoring his presence. I walked to the cafe across the road. As I sipped on a hot cappuccino, I was getting down to my office assignment. I looked up from my assignment and gazed at the surroundings, my eyes rested at the little child across the road.

He was standing on the street, with nimble arms outstretched to receive compassion and a few coins... It was a sweltering noon, and it was interesting to watch him. With his gloomy expression on his face, he sat at the sidewalk, and started counting his collection for the day. From a distance, I could see that he had a miserable day. It would not be enough to buy a decent meal to fill his stomach. He simply sat there, and watched the traffic drag by.

Until.

I saw a scrawny little dog stop by the child, with a pained look in its eyes. It sniffed at the child's tattered clothes, trying to pick up a scent of care. I saw the little child's face transform to a cheery face as he turned to pat the dog. The dog responded by lapping the child's face. The child let out a laugh and the dog barked in return. I smile came across my face. But I wasn't ready for the shock I was to receive.

I saw the child get up, and dust his dirty pants. He went over to a small shop and took out his entire collection. He managed a few biscuits with that money. I saw the dog look at the child, slowly wagging its tail. The child gave the biscuits to the dog. The creature downed the biscuits in one go, and started to wag its tail furiously. It pranced around the boy in joy, and the child responded by jumping and clapping his hands. He caught the dog by the collar and gave it a hug.

Together, they were the dirtiest duo on the street, but shared a strong bond of longing between them.

My coffee got cold, but my hard heart warmed up to the scene that played out in front of my eyes. I was ashamed of myself I was better bestowed than the child, and yet the little one showed more compassion to the dog than I had shown to him. With a new light in my heart, I walked out of the cafe to give the boy some extra help in cash. But as I crossed the lanes, the child was gone. And so was the dog. Dejected, I turned to walk back to my coffee. But something caught my sight, bringing tears to my eyes.

Biscuit crumbs on the sidewalk.

Journey of Love - I (The lady at the pier)

As the sun was setting upon the land of the rising sun, I was standing in the docks, waiting for my ship to pull into port. I was in the small city of Okinawa, on the verge of my journey to Adelaide. I had had enough of the Orient, and was dying to leave this gloomy place of Shinto shrines, misty pagodas, and sushi. I longed to get back to the sunny ranches, bustling with lambs and heifers, with the delightful scent of haystacks wafting from the fields. I longed for the moment where I could wake up every morning, listening to the drone of the tractors that trudged my fields…

Suddenly I heard a deep, but loud blaring horn. Startled, I snapped back to reality. It was a steamer, dwarfing every other junk boat that was tied to the wharf. As the ship docked, I stood by the pier; watching droves of people pour out of the ship and surge towards the Mainland. They were all natives, a smelly bunch weary from the long travel on the behemoth. I could smell seasickness in the air. I looked at the ocean, eagerly awaiting my ship. As darkness fell upon the city, I could discern colossal columns of rain clouds heading to the shore. I simply loathed the climate; there was a rare sunny day, doused with heavy downpours. I sighed in resentment. I desperately needed to leave the place. As I turned around to gaze at the madding crowd, something caught my eye.

Two piers away from my place stood a person. No, it was a lady. There was something different about the way she held her posture. She was wrapped in an elegant kimono. It was red, and there seemed to be some design on it. The failing light prevented me from discerning the colors. Her form was thin, but as the cold breeze swept the Mainland, I could make out a lithe figure beneath the kimono. Her hair was knotted into a complex, yet neat bun. The bun was held together with two long pins. I cursed the darkness as slowly cut her view. And then she moved.
I slowly moved towards her, watching her every step. She was walking towards the drab lamppost. Suddenly I stopped in my tracks. My heart must have skipped a beat at the sight of her. She had the whitest skin and the most delicate face I had ever seen. It was beautiful sight. Once again I moved towards her. As I moved closer, I could make out the shades of blue and black on her kimono. It was a black dragon with a blue underbelly against the background. It was a lovely silk design, but it could not distract me as much as her captivating face did. She was looking across the shore, towards eternity. As I got closer, I saw her eyes. I had never seen such eyes on the people here, but they were soft and luminous. Almond shaped, her blue eyes were barely visible behind those flawless white eyelids. Her lips were full and crimson like the kimono. Occasionally her lips parted to reveal pearly white teeth. But never in these moments did I ever see her smile.

I was now quite close to her. But I did not have the courage to go up to her and look at her closely. From a distance, I discreetly absorbed the beauty that was radiating from her luminescent, yet ghostly white face. The wind seemed to pick up momentum, as a few strands of hair came loose from her tight bun. With one hand, she softly brushed the hair off her face. Her hand was pale, yet her palm was pink. As she moved her fingers through her hair, the sight of her nimble hand coupled with dainty little fingers warmed me. She slightly tilted her head, and closed her eyes, revealing a prominent jaw-line. She took in a deep breath, in a way, which set my heart racing. Slowly, she walked to the edge of the pier, standing all by herself. The crowd was slowly clearing. The breeze was picking up speed. I slowly paced to the lamppost, where she was standing a moment ago. The light barely cast its glow on her figure. I saw her back. Her kimono revealed her neck and a part of her back, and I could discern the nodes of her spine as she breathed slowly. It was then only that I realized that the ghostly white look was barely makeup. The makeup partially forked down her pale brown back, alongside her spine. I saw her open out her arms, in a spread-eagle posture. Her kimono was revealed in all its glory, for now I could clearly see the dragon. There was some inscription written in cream by the side of the dragon. My Japanese was rusty, yet I could not understand the Japanese calligraphies. Suddenly a gust of cold air blew across the piers. I simply looked at her. And then it happened.

The wind slid the silky sleeve up her outstretched and similarly silky arms, revealing light and tender skin. I gripped the lamppost as I saw her naked arm rise above her head and, slowly pull out the long pins that held her hair in place. The wind seemed to assist her, as her hair liberated itself with the wind. Her hair was pitch-black as it fluttered in the breeze. The wind slowly died down, and her free hair covered her bare back. A few strands were out of place, and she roved through her hair with her dainty little fingers. And as she did so, I had a wish. A simple wish to touch her fingers, feel its softness, hold it as it ran through her flowing black hair. And to hold her face softly, and look into her soft blue eyes that glowed with intensity. And to run my fingers across her cheeks, nose and softly caress her firm, crimson lips. The urgency was building within me, and I simply stood there, holding myself back from untold rashness. Suddenly I felt that I was being watched. Realization hit me late when I saw the very lady I was watching, look at me.

We must have stood there for moment, but it seemed like eternity. I was unsure as to what to do next. I watched her gaze, the wind softly blowing across her face. There was a glitter in her eyes, yet she did not smile. She placed the hairpins in her broad silk belt that held her kimono in place. As I studied her face in silence, she seemed to have a different expression on her face. It was a smile!!! It changed her aura completely. She was breathtakingly beautiful. I was mesmerized by her smile. I returned her smile. She slowly lowered her head and held her loose hair in place, keeping an eye on me. My heart went out to her. Slowly she moved, alongside the pier. I stood rooted. I watched her walk away, till I lost sight of her, behind the view of a building. I stood there for a while, awestruck by her smile. In a snap, I realized that she was gone. I quickly hastened my pace towards the place where I last saw her. And then regret hit me.

Around the corner was the main street. It was bustling with people. I raised my hand up in submission. I had lost her. As I roved the street, I saw her get onto a hand-rickshaw. She caught my gaze, and smiled. I could not stand it any longer. I brushed my way past the crowd to the rickshaw stand. But it was gone. She was gone. I looked around, but this time, I could not catch a glimpse of her. Then I heard a deep bellowing horn. It was my ship. For the first time, I did not want to leave. I heard thunder, which was followed by cold drops of hard rain. As the rain fell, I had to rush back to the ship, suddenly feeling a deep loss within my heart. But I stopped. I turned back to the rickshaw stand, and asked the other puller, in the little Japanese that I knew, who the lady was. He smiled at me, knowingly. And told me just four words…

“She is the Geisha.”