These Simple Things…

There are these simple things in life that help me from going crazy.

Like the crow cawing in his scrawny little voice waking me up from sleep well-earned last night. The charcoal-sketched feathery fella found its way onto my veranda, in search of a breakfast full of crumbs. Fortunately, I could afford them in those days. And so he makes an appearance every morning since then. The room was not as empty and lonely than the first time that I had moved in. That bird is my only connection to the normal world seventeen storeys below mine. Where automobiles roar and cement jungles expand by the minute.

Living in small spaces most of my life has made me yearn for small, familiar objects I’d like to call my own. The small wooden coaster perched upon the table, the royal blue ink pen placed next to the pillow, a guitar with riffs that have seen better days, a bottle of homeopathy medicine, a diary jaundiced with stains on its handmade paper…what did I write in it? I scrolled through the pages housing my verses and turned to the last one. It held a secret note, specially scribbled for a long lost loved one…

I did not sleep all night, for you had kissed me. You took my hand and led it to your cheek and lips…And I could only touch you, take your face in my hands and place your lips onto mine. You embraced my whole and led me to talking about who I was…somewhere there; I wanted to live my whole life in that one night. And like a bewitched woman, I blended into you…Oblivious to what people said or did…

I did not sleep all night, for you had loved me.”

Closing the hard bound cover of the old diary, I sighed at how romantic I could get. I placed the spectacles on the armrest and turned to the almirah holding the mirror.

A wrinkled, brittle self looked back at me with a smile.

I turned to the window. The crow had come back…looking for me.


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