I closed the door and came back to my room. Since morning people have been dropping in with their condolences. I heaved a long sigh of relief. It was time to call it a day. I was about to switch off the bedside lamp when I saw a faint light under the door of the opposite room – my husband’s study.
I walked to the room and pushed the door open. The fragrance of joss sticks and flowers filled my nostrils at once. For unfathomed reasons, I couldn’t move. My eyes were fixed on his belongings which were still lying on the study table.
He never allowed anyone into this room. But once much to my surprise, he had asked me to come inside. He sat me down on his chair and he sat on the floor. He then read me a poem. Thereafter he took my hands in his and said he had written it for me. I hugged him tight with glistening eyes.
His talent was acknowledged by everyone as soon as his first book was out. As he started climbing the stairs of success, he hardly had any time to look into my lonely eyes. I was left long, long behind.
Turning the light off, I slammed the door behind me and came back to my room. Hot tears flowed down my face. His last words rang in my ears – forgive me if possible, Mish…
After long he had called me ‘Mish’. But before I could say anything, he had taken his last breath.
I sat curled up in bed. His pale face, shivering hands and his blank look flashed before my eyes. ”Never’ and ‘ever’ – why do we give so much importance to these words? There was a time when I thought nothing could ever break us apart…then when it happened I thought I’d never forgive you – but what would I do with those ‘never’s and ‘ever’s now that you are gone? Had you been here we could’ve tried to fix what was broken, right?’
Written by Chirasree Bose
Picture source – Google