One Final Look, One Final Touch
written by: Indrani Chowdhury
She scrutinized the half-embroidered tablecloth,
The first thing she had looked for after arriving here,
Her expert practiced eyes,
Soon, detecting the sharp needle, still attached to one of its edges.
One of the many of her half-done things,
Like her half-lived life,
Abruptly cut short by an unfortunate happening.
She sighed and then shuddered, thinking,
Until yesterday,
Everything was colourful, perfectly radiant,
Until yesterday,
When the car crash happened.
She sat introspecting in her home’s living room,
Freshly bedecked with fashionable Aztec printed cushions,
Her cushions, still carrying her sweet, faint smell,
Oblivious of the predicament that had befallen.
A faint smile escaped from her lips,
As her eyes fondled the photograph,
Strategically stationed at their newly polished mahogany centre table.
She now reasoned that it seemed,
More like a perfect painting than a photograph,
Revealing a fully smitten Dipto’s unmasked pride,
After winning her hand as his bride.
She again sensed the hunger arising in her,
For his caresses and kisses.
Soon she gave in, savouring her feelings for him,
Savouring her rising emotional tide.
He surely hadn’t suspected that she was carrying,
Before leaving for his overseas project.
Or did he? She wondered.
Then, she reasoned that it was too early,
For a thick head like his to detect the signs,
The reasons for her radiant smiles and rampant mood swings.
She had wanted to keep the things that way,
To narrate their baby’s arrival,
Sounds like a fairy tale,
To her man when he would return after two weeks.
A sudden surge of pain arose from her stomach and
It seemed to puncture her heart,
Before becoming the cause of the lump now forming in her throat.
She wondered why she came here,
To relive the hurt, to relive the pain,
Rather than staying at the morgue,
With her battered mortal remains,
Before embarking on her journey at an unknown road.
Now she knew.
She was hungry for one final look, one final touch,
At the unfinished book of her mortal life,
Before crossing over to the other side.
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