But the Water didn’t Dry up

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Last night curled up in a ball, I felt your hands trying to lift me, Oh how much I wish, That touch to be my reality, not another dream or nightmare. You know I went to that place again, the little cat still comes and waits for you. Alone, day and night, in the hope that one day you will open the door and call her Feluda. Feluda, the famous detective, the name I suggested. I'm so jealous of the little cat, her undying hope, in her sad little eyes. 

The colours of the walls have faded. The longing that you had in your eyes when you touched and admired those walls haunts me. Why fill the place with colours when I was supposed to see only blue in future? 

A few weeks ago, your friend called. I don't know how many times she has told me the same things about you. The excitement in her voice never made me stop her. I listened and again tried to imagine how was aspect of your life that I never got to live with you. 

The alarm went off! Another night has passed! I'm just afraid that your memories will fade along with my blurry eyes.

“ਵਾਰੇ ਮੁੱਕੇ ਨੇ, ਪਰ ਪਾਣੀ ਨਹੀਂ ਸੁੱਕੇ,

ਤੇ ਵਗਦੇ ਪਾਣੀਆਂ ਵਿੱਚੋਂ, ਪਰਛਾਵੇਂ ਤਾਂ ਵੇਖੋ,

ਮੂੰਹ ਨਹੀਂ ਤੱਕੇ…” ~ ਅੰਮ੍ਰਿਤਾ ਪ੍ਰੀਤਮ 

[Loose translation: The wind struck, but the water did not dry up. And from the flowing waters, we see each other’s shadows, but not faces… ~ Amrita Pritam]


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Nidhi katoch
A silent observer in search of her TRUE HOME. If you like my writings, do comment and share... Views are extremely personal and are original writings of mine.

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