Merry La Tragédie

By Anju Kumari

I remember the time when I defined tragedy as a celebration.

An aliquot of blood was taken with a flat face.

“Ohh poor lady, what a bright smile you have”.

I was like a lost sparrow in her kingdom.

A kingdom on the verge of losing its queen.

But the battlefield of life is definitely not a shrine!

At the edge of coaxing, being the only accommodate of her bed.

I slipped in the glory of her old and fierce aura.

A thousand story around the world started crumbling when the hospital heard her language.

"You must have been a diva in your time".

Shyness was reflecting from the oxygen mask pretty well.

"Am I the only one waiting to hear her story?"

But romance was already buzzing around someone.

I kept going with the wild imagination of her days, stirred by the letter she kept below her memories.

That pillow was indeed her all treasure.

An old earthy yet musty dream got all my heart.

"Incomplete story was there"

"Was it her 1st love?", " She never married because of him", "Is she still waiting?".

Quenching the overflowing questions.

"Are you still in love with him?".

Sparking eyes finally said "Twinny, my constant".

Peace and turbulence gathered together as the narration went.

"For me, love is waiting, the hue of hope and a thread connecting two dead ends together. 

He is the only poetry I know, the only expression I can show, I will walk forever with my stories inside me. 

A face with dreamy eyes and his white hoodie was the 1st click, I fell for him that day. 

Petrichor and our first interaction, raw and pure. 

See, I am smiling like an idiot now!".

Moved by the warmth of love, I carried the conversation.

"I am lucky enough to confess my love for him. 

No matter how things have ended. 

I just want to give this letter to him. 

Can I ask for a miracle?

A letter I wrote when he left suddenly. 

My unsaid emotions, roar, sigh. 

The last wish!!".

A tick! dropping heart rate, beeping of machines, wiring and chaos choked the entire environment.

"No, she has to live for her last wish".

So far, I realised her story was wrapped in grief.

No, she was a celebration in herself.

Cherished every memory with love and passion.

Time being the necessary commodity, but she was desperate to hold her crown for longer time.

"Can god hear us?"

"Twinny"

I turned surprisingly "An old man in a white hoodie with papers and medicine in his shaky hands was irritating the nurse".

One drop of tear was enough to submerged the entire world and she was clearly drowning.

Running towards her glory, "Excuse me! She needs you".

Stumbled upon my words, "Who?".

"You are Twinny, right?"

Rhythm of friendship embraced him, he said "Lilliput".

Shocked "Lilliput?"

Her new life before the planned destiny.

A letter waited for 55 years finally recieved by the right person.

Togetherness of rainfall, fireworks, spring, winter in that ambience.

The sound of her inner voice must be like a jumping kid now.

Calculation of the time left, and translation of her emotions were playing inversely.

"He remembers everything just like her".

The shear of separation tied them together for the last time.

"Is it real?

Out of millions of people who love you, I am one of them.

But I am the only one who waited for my heart to beat again. 

You are a complete love story for me. 

My love story of Twinny and Lilliput. 

And your Lilliput is the only light who can enlighten you".

Clutching the letter to his heart, he hugged her Lilliput (eternity).

It was an autumn feeling everywhere.

Everything was falling off. 

The last breath dropped in his arm.

The soft blossom rested silently in her safest place ever.

A frame of never ending story of them was what I captured.

"Don't cry, cherish the kingdom she left for you. 

But why Lilliput?"

He smiled under the shadow of her "because of her height, she was 5'2".

I often think of her, stars are celebrating daily.

An infinite journey I have been carrying with me, not fragile, not tragic.

Yes love is celebration, tragedy is celebration.

By Anju Kumari