Let You Go

By Annesha Ghosh

It's been 16 months, 2 days, 3 hours, and 45 minutes to be exact. And I'm still the hilarious mess you used to laugh at.

I have done my duty throughout the day. Put on a smile on my lips that no botox can fix and shoved that through the eyes of everyone who gifted me sympathy, in words and silence alike. Then, as you already know, I came home and talked to Maa over mute. I love when she blabbers about how I should leave you and move on and blah blah, it's my perfect time to snooze off into a power nap!

Jokes apart, you still aren't eating dinner with me. I am tired of cooking your favourite meals every single day, setting a nice candle lit table for two, while you keep your food untouched. I guess you're getting too fancy meals throughout the day now to like my experimental burnt dishes. But thanks to you, Tommy is getting to eat leftover gourmet delicacies every day. He has barked his blessings to you.

Since you aren't responding, I think I'm free to drink your wine as well. The air is warm tonight, just like you hated. Maybe that's why you chose a cooler place to spend the rest of your life. I turned the knob of the music player. Tommy recognised our song and whimpered on my lap.

And as our home filled with the strings of "Kahin to hogi woh...", I realised that ma is right, maybe. It's time to say goodbye. You'll always be here, in me, in Tommy, in these ancient walls pungent with the smell of the upcoming monsoon, but I must let you go. Stay happy, Colonel Nathan D'Souza. You have always loved your stay in Kashmir. So, when you left us forever, all we could do is gift you a piece of heaven on our broken Earth. It feels placid to hope that you are finally home.

By Annesha Ghosh