He visited last night. Dreadlocks. White mundu and white shirt. Which in itself was abnormal.
“Where were you all these days?”
“In a paying guest”
“What happened to your hair? They don’t have shampoo?”
“No, I like it this way” he smiles, touching his now matted curls.
“And your clothes? What happened to your clothes? There is so much lying in your wardrobe”
“Now, I wear only this. Give away my old clothes”
“Do you get enough to eat?”
“Yeah!”
“Fish?”
“Di, they don’t serve fish there” he grins.
“You know, I miss you”
“You have Ro to bug you now”
“It’s not the same”
“I know”
“I goto go”
“When will you come again?”
“I came today because you were sad”
“How did you know that?”
“Know that I know. Bye di”
He died on 11th September 2004. But in my dreams he lives.
4 comments:
ouch..ah
May he keep coming back to you.
we seem to have treaded similar paths
after all this time, i can atleast talk about him without choking up.thank you for reading.pain is universal and so is loss.
I wish that this is only ur imagination. Bcos if its true its so painful. The memories keep coming back to haunt you.
Sj: thanks for dropping by. These posts are intensely personal, as you might have guessed. I have made peace with my memories, they are better at times than life.
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