The shadow of the door handle above the lock
And I stand and wonder if I should knock.
The shadow terrifies
.
It's like a hand perpetually locked in an embrace of a memory that would not let go.
The traces of the years spent in the yard
come back in that isolated shadow,
bringing the sunshine into a sad expanse
of the days spent away from this door.
I stand and watch endlessly
until I hear a voice behind my back,
"Knock! It's not too late to make it.
This was where you learnt to walk."
And then we walked in , hand in hand
feeling the dampness and the warmth,
all in one breath that was a suffocating effusion
of scents and smells, feels of worn out utensils and the stumbling and knocking
against the legs of tables and the chairs in the dark.
"This was where you broke my doll,"
"And this was where you knocked me down
as I reached for your marbles hidden in the sock."
"But that was all a long time ago"
"Hmm.. I have not forgotten how you cried and hated me;
hated me for what I was!"
"Yes, a monster who destroyed my childish delight!"
"And how your vendetta plagued me in my life to come!
You a sulking girl who grew up to hate
all that I tried to build in recompense!
And now I fear to ask you if you have changed"
The dampness of walls was seeping in
to wrap our past and the lost strands
that had tied two cousins in a shared home and a shared past.
The warped memories of the bygone past,
remote and yet too close
as if it happened yesterday.
The wicked smile of the imp in those eyes
and I a stupid , gullible angel of academies of useless learning,
carrying my burden of vanity on sagging shoulders
and years stretched into an expanse of delusions and vapid dreams!
I was squirming under his cold scrutiny,
not sure if what stared at me was love
or resentment over my lack of sensibility.
We stood over the abyss that stretched
over the years of distance and derelict wanderings.
Was he still there where we left each other
on our different ways, long back when our journeys began .
His visage now showed signs of sorrow
and mine perhaps showed remorse
for the wounds we inflicted in the childish rage,
the imagined insults and contempt
as we endlessly practised our lessons of sadistic delight
in whacking each other's pride in vengeance
for the hurts we could never forgive.
It was all there between us still
like a debt of the past that made us
what we were,
creatures bound in a family tie
that defined our identities
in the ways we never suspected to last
so long into our separate futures
remote and torn.
Torn from my roots I was,
as I stood facing my opposite image
in a home so unreal and dark.
And I stand and wonder if I should knock.
The shadow terrifies
.
It's like a hand perpetually locked in an embrace of a memory that would not let go.
The traces of the years spent in the yard
come back in that isolated shadow,
bringing the sunshine into a sad expanse
of the days spent away from this door.
I stand and watch endlessly
until I hear a voice behind my back,
"Knock! It's not too late to make it.
This was where you learnt to walk."
And then we walked in , hand in hand
feeling the dampness and the warmth,
all in one breath that was a suffocating effusion
of scents and smells, feels of worn out utensils and the stumbling and knocking
against the legs of tables and the chairs in the dark.
"This was where you broke my doll,"
"And this was where you knocked me down
as I reached for your marbles hidden in the sock."
"But that was all a long time ago"
"Hmm.. I have not forgotten how you cried and hated me;
hated me for what I was!"
"Yes, a monster who destroyed my childish delight!"
"And how your vendetta plagued me in my life to come!
You a sulking girl who grew up to hate
all that I tried to build in recompense!
And now I fear to ask you if you have changed"
The dampness of walls was seeping in
to wrap our past and the lost strands
that had tied two cousins in a shared home and a shared past.
The warped memories of the bygone past,
remote and yet too close
as if it happened yesterday.
The wicked smile of the imp in those eyes
and I a stupid , gullible angel of academies of useless learning,
carrying my burden of vanity on sagging shoulders
and years stretched into an expanse of delusions and vapid dreams!
I was squirming under his cold scrutiny,
not sure if what stared at me was love
or resentment over my lack of sensibility.
We stood over the abyss that stretched
over the years of distance and derelict wanderings.
Was he still there where we left each other
on our different ways, long back when our journeys began .
His visage now showed signs of sorrow
and mine perhaps showed remorse
for the wounds we inflicted in the childish rage,
the imagined insults and contempt
as we endlessly practised our lessons of sadistic delight
in whacking each other's pride in vengeance
for the hurts we could never forgive.
It was all there between us still
like a debt of the past that made us
what we were,
creatures bound in a family tie
that defined our identities
in the ways we never suspected to last
so long into our separate futures
remote and torn.
Torn from my roots I was,
as I stood facing my opposite image
in a home so unreal and dark.
I love reading this story Sushama. So many childhood were like that... sibling rivalry. Amazing the way you told the story... I felt I was there, and felt everything you said. Thank you.
ReplyDeleteps To me, this stood out, caught me "gullible angel of academies of useless learning,
carrying my burden of vanity on sagging shoulders
and years stretched into an expanse of delusions and vapid dreams!" Ah, life.
... so beautifully told Sushama, as always.
ReplyDeleteActually this is one of the good ones I wrote; I was saddened to find a relatively small number of likes on it. But my spirits revived when I saw all my best friends, and you among them, have plussed it, As always, your comments touch me with their intimate insights and make me look back at what I wrote, with a renewed wonder.
ReplyDelete