The GRANDEST Dad

He is no more in pain.
He is no more suffering.
He is no more crying.
He is no more in distress.
He is no more……….
We knew it.
He was to go.
We all have to leave.
That’s the biggest truth .. they say
Then why are we scared of it?
Are we afraid of the void?
Are we scared of missing?
Missing the snug, warm presence?
The comforting smell of clove?
The magnifying glasses he wore, fancied by all kids of the clan?
The endless poems he could recite?
Or The stories?
Stories that we had learnt by heart
But they would come to life anew
Every time he would narrate.

I might forget the poems.
The stories might escape my memory.
Nobody has to bother anymore, if his evening tea was black and strong enough.
Years later I might have to struggle to recall his voice.
His wrinkled face might fade away slowly.

I’ll miss Bappai still.
He was my precious!
He, I will never loose
He’s a part of my existence
He will remain.

Long live, he sure will.
Forever. Right in my heart.

Main tainu phir milan gi

I will meet you yet again
How and where? I know not.
Perhaps I will become a
figment of your imagination
and maybe, spreading myself
in a mysterious line
on your canvas,
I will keep gazing at you.

Perhaps I will become a ray
of sunshine, to be
embraced by your colours.
I will paint myself on your canvas
I know not how and where –
but I will meet you for sure.

Maybe I will turn into a spring,
and rub the foaming
drops of water on your body,
and rest my coolness on
your burning chest.
I know nothing else
but that this life
will walk along with me.

When the body perishes,
all perishes;
but the threads of memory
are woven with enduring specks.
I will pick these particles,
weave the threads,
and I will meet you yet again.

-Amrita Pritam.