Tag Archives: memory

A Predestined Tragedy of Our Accepted Destiny

baby

Let me tell you about a cute little pink lump of flesh casted with most enchanting spell of all called ‘life’. It was 75th minute of my uninterrupted glance at this baby while all my thoughts concerning his predestined future reeled on in my head like a film. As I landed on reality runway, I felt his fingers clasped around my thumb, I saw his tiny feet kicking the air over hospital bed and his eyes blinking with surprise while last drop of tear streamed down to pillow leaving trace of salt on both sides of his face. He was not crying anymore. Only blinked. May be he was tired but I’m pretty sure he was shocked about one of those cruel jokes life had pulled off. Before his 75th hour on earth, the angel of death took his mother away a day after this Mother’s Day. Irony. I could not resist myself from kissing him. Then I could smell scent of purity and innocence. Knowledge that Rules of God can neither be bent nor be broken, shattered my heart into shredded pieces. I am useless uncle of this child mourning death of my cousin.

Only that day I was shuffling through the old photos I stored in my cloud account. I found myself giggling thinking the silly deeds we did to bully her husband and to haunt guests on her pre-wedding and wedding occasion. Seem like yesterday we were rowing boat to go fishing. She would catch most fishes and we could only hook crabs or broken tree branches. She made fun of us saying ‘Don’t worry; I cook delicious crab soup with branch stew’. She liked muting corny Deshi films and reciting humorous made-up lines that turned it much more entertaining. She was my indulger of many childhood wishes, she was my company in afternoon walks, and she was pickle in a tasteless day and story in an uneventful time. She was my charming big sis. One day I hope to tell this cute little lump of flesh all the stories about his amazing mother.

I picked him up cradled him in my arms. I started humming with heaviest heart. For now, he shall sleep. For now, he shall glide far away from this predestined tragedy of our accepted destiny.

Too Good to be True

This story is about an enchanting buttercup girl of chubby cheeks who was wrecked inside, who is living in disbelief- too afraid to shout to the void believing that nothing good will ever come, who startles like a fawn and in that girl I see a caterpillar yet to evolve into a beautiful butterfly with the touch of love. As she’d say now, ‘You sound corny’. Yes love, I do.

She appeared like a dark silhouette on the landscape of blue; standing right on the line placed in between where sky meets ocean. All my attention invested in chasing after the trace of her emotion and pace of her feelings. There remained hopes, worries, dreams and dramas in the black space between us mingling and hanging in the air. For a moment I could see them, I could feel them and I could touch them as tangibles. Thoughts consumed my consciousness so I was unaware of wave crashing on coral bed or the captivating reflection of sky in the ocean. All I could see… was the promise we made to ride on waves, walk on sands and hike around the globe together with hands clasped tight till our spines bend, bones grow weak, hair turns grey to white and we return to dust of the ground; that promise levitated by the breath of the ocean glowed in the shape of the strongest hope. I knew right at that very moment that I was not a rider on vagabond wheels anymore rather a man of objectives.

I say your fear flows from the things you care for. For instance, I never consider anyone my best friends except for the members of my family. Let’s just say I call conventional best friends ‘better friends’. May be it’s the outcome of a realization or protective shield of expecting less. Anyway, so single off putting news about my family is destructive enough to turn my world upside down. I care for them. Fun fact, I fear spiders. That doesn’t mean I dearly care for them too! But she managed to climb a step above ‘better friend’. It was a sudden entrance and quick ascendance I had no control over. She was like a cute lost puppy with watery eyes and a naïve look; irresistible entity and my new source of fear. I felt it my responsibility to comfort her with my verses:

‘If sun can’t miss a morning kissing you,

if stars can’t twinkle without winking you,

who am I other than the king of my sandcastle

to ignore the grace of you?

You are all the layers of my cloud9,

Core in the heart of blissful shine and

I am that king of the sandcastle

still waiting for you to be mine’

And some meaningless poems such as this. But before reading it you need to know few things. She always complain that ants always find pleasure in biting her, we both use the word ‘enchanting’ so many times, she loves to travel the world as do i, most of the time when she’s unable to answer anything she sings ‘Aiii don’t know’ with different tunes as if it’s a song.  Now you are good to go and read this weird thing:

You are my sugar and I’m your ant

Let’s sing it out loud…sing it like a band

What if they hear…what if they do?

Only singing won’t do, let’s dance too

Your voice is amazing but my voice is a killer

Together we sing a weird Floorfiller

We look better than Ferdinand better than Isabella

Let’s watch Kung fu panda and share a Nutella

I crave for your love and my love’s not fickle

As your ‘tunes’ make me smile like a continuous tickle

So I sing-

“I’ll be flicking stones at your window I’ll be waiting outside ’til you’re ready to go Won’t you come down? Come away with me Just think of all the places we could be I’ll be waiting, waiting on a brand new day Waiting on a brand new day”

You are charming, appealing, dazzling, and ravishing

Looks like you are the one summing up ‘enchanting’

I’m wandererI’m drifter i’m a stone always rolling

Bewildering, why’d you love such vagabond being!

Don’t sing ‘Aiii don’t knooow’ cause it’s hauntingly beautiful

Making me prisoner of your love dungeon and

If I try to pick the lock I’m only a fool.

And she’d return the favor with impressive blows like sending goodnight audio notes with kisses, playing me her guitar or singing me my most favorite song Cannonball with her out of sync hauntingly beautiful voice. My ears craved for it so many times that her version outnumbered original Damien Rice’s in my most played list within days. Still I crave for more:

‘Still a little bit of your taste in my mouth

Still a little bit of you laced with my doubt

Still a little hard to say what’s going on

Still a little bit of your ghost, your witness

Still a little bit of your face I haven’t kissed

You step a little closer each day

That I can’t say what’s going on

Stones taught me to fly

Love ‒ it taught me to lie

Life ‒ it taught me to die

So it’s not hard to fall

When you float like a cannonball’

She is someone who can make time run faster than fastest. She is someone who can tame your crazy heart after a restless day. She is someone who intentionally fools herself to say those three magical words to you. She is someone for whom you won’t mind leaving your tongue tied over those three words forever. She is someone who can nurture your manhood by letting you help her out some insecure state that she herself able to get rid of. She is someone every man desires to have and every woman desires to be. Idle time without her feels like the ‘cruciatus curse’ from harry potter. If that flawed moon caused writers write thousand poems; I think even millions will fall short when I’m praising her.

But despite the strength of these words, despite the force with which she’s pulling me toward her; I hear the haunting whisper:                                                                                                                                          ‘Sugar sack on back, ocean at my feet… step? step Step!’                           And it might be as it is anticipated. This story was about an enchanting buttercup girl of chubby cheek.s.. I will ever want to remember.