She was cute, she was hot.
She was gentle, she was frank.
She was simple, she was gorgeous.
She was funny, she was meaningful.
She was mine and I was hers.
We had a different world altogether. A world where in hugs, kisses and smiles flowed by. After a day’s work, at the end of each night I ended up realizing that the motive behind all the drudgery I ever involved myself in, from the moment I met her, culminated in making her happy. She was the best thing I had ever come across. I loved her talks, I loved our walks. Every time you clasped my hand tight amidst a crowd, you just gave me moments to cherish. You made me feel important. With every passing moment, our love just bloomed n brimmed out of this world. Every time your hair blew onto your face, I witnessed an angel in flesh.
You were great, you were awesome. As I jot these moments into a piece of paper, with every word comes into my mind that horrendous split-second of time when my life changed to never be normal. Never be happy. As I make out what my state was-tears trickled down uncontrollably down my cheeks and I find myself crying like a small child under a shower so as to not let my child know that her mother won’t be there for her. That she won’t be returning from her trip down to hometown which was what my tiny daughter believed. I find myself numb, uncaring of myself and in torn shreds of life. As I hold my temple in my arms and squeeze myself, I am chained and stuck into a trap of memories. Right then, a moment pierces my mind. That split second, I wish, had it skipped this world.
I was limping on the road with my torn pants n blood stained trousers looking for help. She was there, my angel lying down as if into deep sleep. She was motionless. She was not alive. That picture of hers still haunts every nerve of mine. I remember, my eyes had cried blood that day. She was dead, but my nerves unwilling to live, my heart unwilling to beat. I cursed God for having me let live. Had it not been for my daughter who stayed at home that dreadful night, I would have made myself punctured under a truck that very moment. My daughter; she was the reason I wanted to live. As I found out later, it was a group of guys who were drunk and had rammed into our vehicle that resulted in a horrific, lethal accident. I wish I could have done something. But there was nothing, all that was left to do was run to the pillars and corners of court rooms in search of justice. And yet, my wife could not have come alive. She was gone. I still sit in my veranda hoping for that gist of air that would bring back her smell along with it; and her memories.
Had that group of guys were not under the influence of alcohol, I would have had my wife alongside me? But it wasn’t meant to be. Someone so remotely related on this planet had to suffer because of that maniac driver.
So have along a driver when you’re drunk; to be still more good, better not drink.
Don’t drink and drive. You may cost someone’s life with no intentions.
SIDDARTH S H
