On Our Anniversary

By Paramjit Bakhshi

In a strange city

I don't know

What wakes me up

The Muezzin' s call

Or the phone beeping

Constantly.

You still lie

Battling, I wonder,

New monsters

In your sleep.

It is our anniversary

O Cat

Of more than

Nine lives:

Some taken by me

And others

By the family you keep.

We were both

Twenty-two

I had

A company job

And a special

Dispensation

To marry on probation.

Nothing else,

Except a few debts

A barren bungalow

In Dooars

With no curtains

And not even the airfare

To fly you back.

Yet it all

Worked out

I still don't know how.

This marriage

Of fire to water

Of a travelling storm

To a fragile stem.

One willing

To die

For a challenge

The other seemingly

Stone.

One with deep

Catholic morals and guilt

The other

As rebellious

As all prophets.

One needing none

Or so it seemed

The other

Finding comfort

In strangers

Turned friends.

Well, I know

Today

That there is no Old

Monarch sitting upstairs

To pass judgement

And only you and I

And perhaps the kids too,

Know whether we

Knocked each other about

Or hugged each

Other through.

I think both

Being alternately true.

Some secrets are yours

Some mine to keep

Knowing the truth

Deep within

Without judgement

And rancour

Damnit

Won't you agree

It's a damn miracle

We made it so far.

Real unbelievable

Thirty ninth.

By Paramjit Bakhshi