Like the morning dew
Mornings are the same, the sun rises in the east, and the
skies unfurl its various hues while the colors creep into our beings as we set
out on our routine. The days are spent in relative peace or turbulence
depending on where we are and what is the state of our mind. The birds chirp in
their usual frenzy and the world wakes up to another beautiful day.
The emotions run high and low, the clumsiness, the fatigue;
the wear and tear of everyday life takes the sheen off another dutiful day.
Relationships stand isolated or tossed about amidst the tempest sea of life.
The equations spread out in an even way to afford us a living.
Our neighbors peep in as usual even as they go about their
daily life; the helpers at home go about their daily chores. Relatives renew
their closeness and affirm their proximity. Acquaintances drop by remembering
fonder days.
Events in the news, keep us engrossed in the mind. Schools
and colleges churn out their daily dose. The studious lap it up like a cat with
her milk, while the wanderers sniff and turn away like a dog served unwanted
food on its platter.
The weather god turns on the controls, the rains stream down
as if in mourning, the thunder resounds above as if in applause. The storms
wage a lonely battle against the almighty. The smell of rain provokes the
richness and bountiful nature in us.
The green shoots dance about as if in thankfulness. The
creepy animals that lies obscured amidst the high grass wriggle out as a child
attending school after a long break.
Even as life rolls about in a roller coaster fashion, the
stillness of the furniture in the drawing room sends an eerie feeling as if it
has been robbed of its soul mate, a trusted friend whom it could trust on a
daily basis.
The rose plant in the garden wrinkles in sadness even as it
has lost a friendly touch. The field hand no more comes for a chat before he
sets out to the fields. The shopkeeper forgets to nod his head in mild
acknowledgment. Friends hesitate to pass on an infectious high fives.
The lady of the house can’t keep away from staring at the
wall, the emptiness inside her, cringing at the loneliness that has engulfed
her days. The bystander in the household fills in without knowing the essence
of the chore.
The merrymaking within the walls remains subdued for want of
its celebrated guest. The critical one liner that used to come at parried
intervals, all seemed to have merged with the softening of the earth, the
pitter patter of the rain drops.
Not that the guest was accustomed to tapping his feet to
music, not that the guest was overtly talkative, not that the guest was zealous
about the event. But the calm face that sometimes spelled ominous, the fullness
of the room in spite of his short stature, the presence that fuelled and filled
compassion was missing.
In another part of the earth, another home deep in the
basement another piece of land which is engulfed with peace and the tranquility
around it seems to shout with joy, at having received a humorous guest, a
celebrated life that brought tears of sorrow to many.
A year seems long when traced in the calendar. A long twelve
months, and a painstaking journey in time, but when one looks at it from the
perspective of a loving dad who departed on this day one year ago, time seems
to have flown by; it seems like yesterday.
But time cannot take away the freshness of the person, his
words, his advice, his hints, fond remembrances. The warm hug brimming with
love and laced with a deep commitment, a high level of steadfastness, the
embrace of a father, the very fullness of his persona lingers like the
fragrance of the morning and his uplifting presence like the morning dew.
Robin Varghese
21nd December 2017
** on the eve of the first death anniversary of my daddy
