I sit alone, face to face, with them—those last few moments of ours. I hear sweet tunes of its supple stream. I enjoy holding them long, smell fragrance of its guiltless presence, and get drenched in sprinkles of its innocence. This fascinating rendezvous let my dreams run wantonly seeking pleasure of juvenility. I fear not to lose it forever; yet, I fear that my sins are enough to smudge the painted past of virtues.
Still I journey through it—through them—through those moments immortalised by presence of only you and me. Yes, mom! I hear you! I feel you by my side, holding me. The worms of cancer crawl in, silently invade every castles in your lungs, liver and body. The marching army plunders every cell and burns each pages of life. Nero plays the tune. Tiny rivulets of endurance end up in few droplets of tears leisurely disappearing in glistened eyes. Yet, I see a gentle overcoming of all unendurable agonies slowly spreading its wings over those feebly thin lips. It hangs unknowingly there till you I hear you saying something. Yes, I hear it—“It is time now...., my son!” A long silence follows stretching itself to eternity. The sky looks on, so the trees and I. The life hides itself in life and its pains and pleasures. Words ever fail in paying tribute to a soul that only loved and loved and loved. Love, perhaps, only blooms in silence. Bless me with that silence, mother!