God of small things he was: small things…… two little eyes, one little nose, one little mouth. He was the God of big promises too: promises of infinite joy. But, now he is the God of loss: loss of a life, loss of a heart full cry, loss of carefree sleep, loss of the innocent touch, loss of the elixir of mother’s milk and loss of the debate who does he look like. The soul that left his little frail body haunts each and every person in the family.
The small house in a small village, thousand miles away from the metro city Delhi is weeping. It wants to wash away its floor that had been promised a gift of faltering steps. It wants the walls to quaver and get rid of the melody that the now devastated mother had learned to sing for her sweetheart.
Smell, touch, sound, and visual: all will sublime in the universe. But, the dark little room will overpower the silence prevailing in everyone’s heart: The dark room with a small lock- room of small things: small toys, small clothes, small bed, and small things you see…
The darkness strikes me too, here in the much lighted labs where I m alone with my 30 classmates. The plans for next shopping that included little things disturb me yet. A bundle of grey and white cells are still confused over the name that suits my little cousin, that is liked by one and all….may be this, may be that…. Yet to be finalized.
“And still her grief would not abate.
At last she bore another child, and great
Was the father’s joy; and loud his cry: “A son!”
That day, to thus rejoice- he was the only one.
Dejected and wan the mother lay; her soul was numb….
Then she cried with anguish wild,
Her thoughts less on the new than on the absent child….
“My angel in his grave, and I not at his side!”
Speaking through the babe now held in her embrace
She hears again the well known voice adored:
“Tis I,- but do not tell!” He gazes at her face.”
– Victor Hugo
God of small things he was: having an age of one day, not old, too young and not a die able age. Where do the old birds go when they die? I don’t know and would not like to know. But, where ever he is, he has to promise to return. We want him to be returned.
O my little brother, I did not get the time to whisper your name in your ears. It’s “Kaushik”……..I have nt given you this name but my loving brother kaus has given his. So, always be thankful to him baby. I hope you will return when your journey in the other world is over. We will be waiting for you. The little we love you more, sweetheart.