Thursday, 25 October 2012

The ghost town of memory

The clouds are heavy. Maybe they know of the impending death. I've heard songs about death and read ruminations on it. But I never knew until two years ago that dying could turn entire cities into ghost towns of memories. Living, breathing, but yet lifeless. For the one who mattered has gone. The smoke from the day lingers. His last breath. How we hung on to it. For, till it was there we lived. We lived like children and our memories lived and his voice lived and his dreams coloured our journeys. But the last breath took everything away. I haven't let go of it. It's frozen.
It was. Until today.
When everyone's outside the room. Waiting. For one more last breath. Death shows no mercy. It never did. It sits with us, has the hospital tea, comments on the lack of sugar, and then it walks in and takes away what it has to. Leaving a whole lot of childhoods and an entire city dead with it.
As I write this, I visit the ghost town of my memory. I run around the house looking for my dad. But all I find are walls. Blackened by death. And haunted by ghosts.

1 comment:

Chandan said...

Loss has a way with memory.. one remembers the most unlikely things... until loss like pain has a smell and taste of its own . riveting post.