A river bank had beckoned from afar , beyond domes of haystacks that rose like temples and palm trees that stood in lines on paddy field hedges. A girl who died to the river bank would have her ashes added to its flow.
This girl of woman had always greeted me from a child’s mind that recognized a kindred spirit acknowledging the truth of an invisible connection that existed between us .Her presence consisted of a series of absences all of which formed a big presence ,when she was around but not around much .I mean when she was supposedly alive but not tangible at one place in the home. She loved the wind the trees and the creatures on the leaves, the yellow moon,the red sun.She always hated to be in the four walls of a home. It now makes hardly a difference she is not around. Because she will always come back eventually. When someone is mentally retarded she does not die too much.
Returning home the train flowed to Bibinagar where hundreds of fluorescent graves of Bibis (wives) greeted bleary eyes. They were waiting for live husbands to lay annual wreaths on their grieves. Actually they were buying fresh flowers for their wives not yet in their graves.
Returning home to the Facebook of my home computer I found one face in Lousiana missing. Such things happen behind your back. There was no reason for Prabhakar to vanish from my Facebook.
May be we shall become pals once again in our Facebook up there!