Clueless Ink

You had already decided:

your soul wanted to fly, not linger.

–

It was our hope.

I told myself it was enough to know you were there,

in a room,

on a bed,

with a nurse,

with Nani by your side,

anxious,

praying,

waiting for the man she once knew,

the brighter, older version of you.

–

In Nani’s world,

she prayed each morning

you would rise,

to make her tea,

just as you always did.

2024, her fragile hope.

–

Our endless wish to see your older self;

how ironic, Nanu.

–

But in my mind, you were still speaking:

about my job,

my boyfriends,

my choices,

sometimes judging,

sometimes easing,

sharing your faith in God,

handing me stories to read,

translating the Geeta in Urdu,

steady,

about what zindagi truly is.

–

In the end,

it was your decision to let go.

And still,

you waited,

longer than you should have,

for us slow beings

to accept this,

to understand you.

–

And when I looked at your face

as you breathed,

I could see it,

though I ignored it,

your disappointment in us,

the frown on your face,

at how slow we were,

how dumb.

Like I was,

when you couldn’t learn to pick up video calls.

How blind, you must have thought,

how far we were

from grasping

what zindagi really means.

–

But we are no pros,

like you, Nanu.

We lingered,

not for you,

but for ourselves,

to make it easier.

So when I look at my dots,

my reasoning,

my unnecessary patience,

it was my dance,

the only steps I knew.

–

I know you’re not here

to answer what it means, Nanu.

So I’ll decode it on my own this time.

And I hope you won’t be disappointed.

Not this time.

–

Zindagi..

a word with a full stop.

Life is mortal

because it must end.

Few ever know

when their purpose is complete.

But nanu, you did.

–

Still, you waited.

Because,

Kisi ki muskurahaton pe ho nisar.

–

And I hope,

with my reflection,

you are at peace,

your soul quiet,

as you were on your last day,

happy,

satisfied.

–

Yours,

One and only,

Bhooth.