“A young, bubbly lass once I saw,
Tall, dusky and a charming smile she wore.
Like all little girls, she waited in anticipation,
Of a handsome young man,
Who’d love her like no one.
Her little follies he would overlook,
And pamper her all the more.
Came galloping the prince from somewhere, not very far.
Just a stroke of luck, and they got together.
Happy songs, her pink dress and reverberating laughter,
His turban matched to her pink,
They looked perfect together.
Life was beautiful for they loved each other so.
Loving, living and caring.
They spent their days together.
Sounds a bit exaggerated, in our time, I know!
Blessed with three lovely children,
two girls and a boy,
Life was one big party, a crazy ride of joy!
She was his fourth baby,
Safely cocooned under his powerful wings.
All things were served on a silver platter,
He loved watching them all,
A doting husband, and an indulgent father!
Alien to the ways of the world,
he was their Santa Claus.
All wishes granted, a life for them he chose.
They were all that dreams are made of….
But dreams, some say, don’t always come true;
The tyrant called destiny had vicious, well laid plans.
One hot afternoon, he came back with some envelopes.
Sitting on the couch, he still was in a haze.
Could it be a mistake or was it really true?
“Let me talk to another, before I can tell you…..”
There was an underlying grief in the chirpy home for days.
They were all quiet, a silence shrouded in gloom.
Her sixth sense overworking, she searched for answers,
As she looked at his feeble body,
In the ominous hospital room.
Doctors, nurses, relatives..
And a plethora of medical tools,
All, but her, had a right on him,
How quickly life toppled and was it cruel!
His rosy complexion faded, his light green eyes sunken deep.
In a shrill voice, he called out to her,
As she ran towards him.
“Hey, dress up in some nice clothes,
As you always do.
Why these tears, why this sad face?
Cancer cannot kill me, for I have you!”
“Don’t call our boy to witness all this.
He’s too young, and so are my both my dolls.
I’ll be home soon, just a matter of a while.
You, be bold, let me see your smile.”
Fighting back the tears, she heard someone say,
“Please go out, the doctors are on their way.”
Time was fast slipping like sand from a fist,
They were all just spectators,
And he, just another name,
on the wicked Satan’s list.
The inevitable happened, what a shame that it did!
What a ruthless snatcher, what a mean thief,
He whom we call the Creator,
Turned so miserly.
Robbed them of all they had,
Happiness, friends, relatives…
A right to live with dignity.
Did He need him more,
than the loving wife and his young kids?
Well, no one got a chance to say the final goodbye.
The doctors didn’t answer any how, what or why!
His eyes were still open, as if gazing in disbelief.
His little girl collapsed, and was pushed out,
By a heartless matron, who thought it wasn’t big deal!
The other one looked at him,
placed her hand on his eyes.
They did not just close, as she tried twice.
The daughters he cradled in his arms,
Today pushed the stretcher,
that became his final resting place.
His warmth took over by the chill of death,
The softness of his heart,
Robbed by the numb stillness of the mighty destroyer.
His little naughty boy didn’t shed a tear,
Nothing made sense, no one could he hear!
His younger girl proved more fragile,
than anyone could think.
She had been the feisty one,
but now all she did was babble!
“Where has papa gone?”,
she prodded, she kept asking.
Their rainbow world had turned grey
in just a few days.
What a ruthless turmoil ,
what a massive storm!
His cozy, snug nest, his lovely, lively brood,
All of it tumbled over,
the one place they called home!
My hands and feet are sweaty.
As I recount the circumstances.
My heart pounds real hard,
And barge in those deafening voices.
His last gaze fogs my mind to the deepest core,
It rips me apart, makes my heart bleed.
This is just so cruel, utterly uncalled for.
He really wished to live, his pain was far more!
And now that he’s gone…..
Her eyes have that glint no more,
Nor are there any celebrations.
They say that he’s everywhere.
So, why isn’t he seen?
But when her grandchildren visit,
She sees him in their smiles.
She has a glimpse of him,
When an old song plays.
He stands right there,
When she reads the poems he wrote.
They torment her or give her joy,
I do not know.
But they shall not be back,
Oh, those wonderful days! “
“A young, bubbly lass once I saw,