Red Color of Love and Lapse

Sleep oh my son!26/11 Mumbai
Close your eyes,
touch steep skies;
Hold my hand,
see sunny sand;
Air on the sea,
like a humming bee;
It came to please,
caress whirling breeze;
Many hearts you won,
Sleep oh my son;
Sleep oh my son!

As soon as I finished humming this lullaby, I bruised my fingers on Abhi’s forehead, when it came to my senses that he had already slipped into slumber. I gently placed his left arm on the bedside that was innocently making an attempt to reach out my other side. I jacketed him in his warm little blanket, and switched the lamp off, to the zeroth fluorescence. About to leave his room, I couldn’t help taking a small glimpse of his calm, innocent and exquisitely fair moon-like face. He was inherited with charm and peachy attributes from his father. And, along with all facial features, his name too. I took my steps towards his bed again and planted a peck on his forehead, and his lips broke into a scenic smile, just like the one of his father.

“Oh, Abhi,” I uttered, his magical smile shaped my lips too, and in no time I was lost in the thoughts for how he resembled so much to his father, Abhimanyu. I knobbed the door instantly, and reached out to the drawing room.

Night, it is the beautiful part of the day to lose oneself in the love of darkness. As much like meditating, when you are alone with yourself and your love. Love that always binds, never detaches. Entering the drawing room had always been my restful spot. It was all decorated by the beckoning snaps, acquiring all the four walls. It tinned the moments of every smaller phase of our life, which had always been the lively idea of Abhimanyu. He believed in capturing the moments in a frame, for he always followed, that time can never be captured. They say past has passed and it should be walked on, in order to keep moving swiftly in future, but sometimes it’s the captured moments like this, that are themselves immovable but they do inspire us to keep moving, that themselves never breathe, but they are breathtaking, that keep us warm in their embrace.

Beginning from the left most corner of the drawing room, I began gazing at the expressive and beauteous pictures. It initiated with the moments of Abhimanyu’s childhood in the hands of his parents, his school picnics, his birthdays and varied celebrations with family, with friends, some cheerful, some funny; where reaching to the photo images of Diwali, 2008, celebrations lowered my speed of navigation from one snap to the other. Festival of lights brought a glow in our lives, when the comely news of me nurturing a bud inside me, came to our home. Diwali ignited our lives to a step ahead, and the snap that held my eyes was the one in which Abhimanyu held me back from the glittering lit sparkles.

His words for that moment still ping in my ears, for he said, “Siya, hold back. You don’t need to go infront of fireworks and sparkles. Let me hold it for you.”

Then came the one in which, he was drawing the rangoli, for he didn’t let me settle on the ground and prepare it, for he said the position may harm our junior.

Abhimanyu had always been passionate about grabbing diversity, ranging from colors, to cuisine, to festivals, to cultures, to regions, to arts, to books and to everything that defined the existence of something he called the magic of being a son of motherland, India.

He was a firm lover of nature God, and he always said

For every son who surrenders his life in the name of motherland takes birth a silent lover, a roaring Lion, a Patriot.

Then came turn of the snaps of my birthday, when at my insistence, we went to Marine Drive, the place where Abhimanyu and me saw one another for the very first time. There were too many of them, from giggling to teasing, from loving to winking. We sat there, spoke endlessly, shared the relish, lived every smaller dream we had, and captured every single moment knitting them into memories. Hand in hand, sitting there and looking deep at the ceaseless sea, we made plans for the life inside me. Life seemed so perfect having a perfect beloved and our love in my womb.

Little had we understood the changing rules of the game of fate that had already planned something away from our minds. We were on the way back home, when we headed back towards the CST station, for catching a train back to Thane. Owing to my pregnancy, Abhimanyu shrinked my wish of travelling by Mumbai local to taking a private car, but I insisted on the local train. After several efforts of convincing him, he had agreed to relive the moments of our college days. As soon as we stretched out towards the respective platform, we heard some noises that sounded like crackers in the beginning, assuming it was from far. We felt a tinge of awkward nervousness, but soon we took further steps towards our destined local and the noise, that imitated the sound of crackers became louder and even clearer. As soon as we looked back, we saw a rush of people running to catch their lives, and hemp of well-equipped bombers, liberating fire in the entire station with their shotguns. They destroyed all the stalls, ticket counters, common rooms, local trains halted to get occupied with passengers.

I was completely cold-footed, and began to faint, when Abhimanyu lifted me in his arms and started running outside the terminus. We saw a stack of taxis getting filled with a number of people one after another to vacate the place and get disbursed sooner. The images were fading in my eyes and all I could see was Abhimanyu’s perspired face that was completely drowned in worry and anxiety to reach out of the threat to our lives. He instantly made me sit in the taxi and asked the driver to drop us at the place where we hailed from. Unsure of the ways and locations of the air filled with despair, the cab driver started the cab, and we were safely on our way back to home. Even after being in the count of those luckier ones, who migrated from the bloodbath, Abhimanyu’s face portrayed a sense of discontentment and incompleteness.

As I attained consciousness, I saw Abhimanyu sitting beside me, and we were away from blood. Tears welled up in my eyes and I cried my heart out, hugging him. He bruised my hairs, and quietly listened to me, but he didn’t utter a single word.

“What happened, Abhi?” I asked, confusedly.

“Nothing to me. Are you okay?” He asked back.

“Yes,” I smilingly said, and hugged him tighter than ever.

“In the process of running and calling for life, I came across an old lady, just of the age of mom, who needed and yelled out for help. I also came across a toddler, yet to see and taste life, sobbing unaware of what was happening around him. A young physically challenged girl, crying helplessly, who has her future and career infront, anyone can play a chance on her situation. They need me, Siya,” he said, fighting and erasing his continuous tears.
I held his hand tighter. I was lost looking at him and listening to what he was saying.
“Allow me to go, Siya. Allow me to go,” he repeated.
For a moment I felt like slapping him hard, for overlooking his own family, his own child, who is yet to come out of the shell and Me…. But then he said that something, that made me love him even more, that made me realize how selfish I was being.
He continued, “Siya, very few are blessed with this luck of giving a new life to someone. And even fewer of them make use of it. I’ll get the same happiness by saving those lives that you will derive by giving life to our child. This is the only time to make my visit in this world worthwhile. All of us have to leave this world one day then why not make use of the moments when you are capable enough to lend a helping hand to those who need you?”

Hearing this, I loosened the grip of his hand. I didn’t want him to go, but I didn’t even want him to regret for this day, when he felt the utmost desire to help the needy. And there he was, smiling back in joy, with tearful eyes. He gently kissed my forehead and hugged me tightly for few more minutes.

“Ever if I come back, I’ll live a satisfactory life and you’ll love me even more. If I don’t, then forgive me. But I’ll make sure that I have you in my next birth and every next birth. Take care of yourself and our junior, my love,” he finally said and left the cab.

I kept staring at him, as he started moving, until he got converted into a small speck and finally vanished. I wanted to moan high, I wanted to wail profusely, I wanted to call him back, but something from within held my tongue tighter and refused it from uttering. I felt a punch inside my chest, a burden on my heart. I didn’t know whether that was the last time I was seeing him, all I knew was that, I was proud of being blessed with this man on this earth. I felt crowned for being with someone who had a heart and a life to share with others, without caring about self in this world, where some hands were busy taking innocent lives. I was taken to some other world, the world in which I was myself unable to recognize the intentions as destiny was dancing. Is this the way, the almighty used to send his messengers on this planet to take care of his beings! Is this the manner people lay their lives in the name of their earthmen! Is this the way in which sons are really called to be touched by their mothers! All these thoughts kept on haunting my mind.

After a decade of minutes, the cab driver offered me a glass of water, drawing my attention from my thoughts and bringing me in the face of present. The cab driver kept noticing our gestures for long, without interrupting or drawing our attention for eating his time, this is something beautiful about Indian hearts, they are always full of love, full of emotions, full of understanding. I felt a sense of nausea, and gradually all the sights in my eyes started getting disbursed. And I faded right in there.

As I attained consciousness by certain cold wet drops, I tried opening my eyes. I found myself in the bed, surrounded by a flock of known and unknown faces. I was brought home in the state of absolute black out by cab driver, who made use of my phone to confirm my destination without making any attempt to disrupt or move me from my anguish state. Looking at the ceiling and objects around me, I recognized for it being our house. It was then, when the first name that I uttered was ‘Abhimanyu.’ I kept enquiring all, but none answered. They all assured that he’ll be back. Minutes turned to hours, hours turned to days, but I kept waiting. I was waiting for Abhimanyu to come back and feel the kicks and beats of our love that was growing inside me.

All the things turned dizzy and hasty around me. Two days later, a news knocked our doorstep that took away land beneath our feet. But surprisingly, my reaction was stable, I was not feeling like weeping or wailing. In a way, I was prepared for it. I didn’t cry the day when he was proudly announced to have surrendered life for the sake of countrymen. But as the days passed, the sense of aloofness grew. The nights seemed darker, and the days’ brightness seemed to take away from sight turning me blind. With closed eyes, I saw Abhimanyu, blood around him, people he was helping. With eyes opened, I was in the world that was without him, but as he said, he was inside me. He was turning my strength rather than my weakness.

There were series of discussions and a chain of gatherings at our house. When I used to peep in or participate, the topic was changed to prevailing bollywood movies running in cinema theatres, the talks were moved to present stock market. No one talked about the agony of that ruthless night that turned our days darker. There were all the smiling faces, with no question marks, unlike what I did! I was negotiated and sent to my maternal house for proper care and attention, owing to my eighth month. A month more passed in cherishing memories and talking to the smiling 4’x6’ frame of Abhimanyu. And, then our entire place was mesmerized by the glorious cries of Abhi, to fill my life with love and care, which seemed to have gone on a long vacation. His similar facial attributes were absolutely the magic of creator. His sight was blissful, his presence enormously hypnotizing. He was the perfect reflection of his father.

Hatred, envy and revenge never give us anything, but when they arrive, they play with and take away the innocence of too many lives, and when they depart, it’s too late to regret. And the same deadly sins, took away my love from me, took away my son’s father even before he saw him. Abhimanyu went there by his will. He was not from an army or a military background, but he was an Indian blood. And he always believed that all of us are messengers of God, in varied faces with varied names, but have same heart and same red heritage running in our veins. As long as this land nurtures sons, that long they’ll stand to support and save their motherland.

With the range of thoughts my heart wandered in between, my eyes opened, and I found a few of tears making way out of my eyes to flow off. I went near the window, to welcome the moonlight to peep in my heart, to feel the winds, to catch a glimpse of my shining star, settled up in the sky. The rain announced its arrival with the lightning thunder. Abhimanyu loved rains. It gave me chills, cuddling my cheeks, wiping away my tears, watering my memories and turning them enchanting. He seemed to take form of everything he loved, be it diversity, or nature, or rains. It’s for when you love someone by all your might, they come back to you, they keep a watch on you to whichever world they are. If Hatred detaches, then Love adjoins; If Envy sucks blood, then Love bleeds; If a heart turns hard enough to take lives, then Love giggles to surrender its life.


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