To the man on the moon.


'Are you happy with your life?', I ask him, taking precarious measures to make sure he would not lie. Sometimes people can be so cruel, they know exactly where it hurts and yet make sure they don't miss the spot. He loves happiness but he is committed to peace. He pretended the words of his son were only met with indifference, but when you see him writing down the fight they had in his small diary with tears in his eyes, my heart falls apart. When he denies being tired after work, but see him snoring away his off-day when he's usually chirpier during that time of the day, my heart falls apart. When she teases him for crying for all the silly reasons, I smile but when I see that he doesn't smile back, my heart breaks. You know, there is nothing I won't do for that man.
Startled by my sudden appearance, he prepares to throw away the cigarette he had just burned. "Don't. It's fine. But tell me, are you happy with your life?", I ask again, as he hesitantly takes a puff,happily. I wish I had let him throw it away. All the people that I surprise with abrupt questions reply to me with another question,or they push me off or laugh it off. People, surprise, abrupt. Guess the three are difficult to handle together. But this man never questions any of my questions. In fact, he would look at me and smile that charming smile of his, finishes all his duties, cleans his spectacles, dusts off his mundu and baniyan, which makes me question the authenticity of my question. And then he asks "Can you repeat the question again?". You know, there is nothing this man won't do for me.
"Can you repeat the question again?",he smiled. I repeat the question again. "Well,...", every single atom in my body willed for this man to say that he was the happiest man on this earth. "...why shouldn't I be happy? I am sitting with you after these many months, the weather is nice, she is sleeping", we both laugh together. He had changed a lot, and yet he was still the lovable man I so dearly love. "I don't know if this was the life I wanted. But I know I wouldn't trade what I have now for anything at all.", and with that he took the last puff from his cigarette. A sweet sweet lie for me? A reassurance for himself? Or was the night his inspiration to talk so beautifully and dark?
To the man who still allows me to hold his little finger like I used to when he rarely comes to pick me from school. To the man who ran with us in the beach, so wild, happy and free, keeping aside all the tales of how the water drowned children. To the man who taught me to always be excited for even the tiniest things. To the man who I would do anything for, I hope we share our pretty little 'everything' moments and promise each other 'nothing'. To the happiest man I know, I hope you don't know how to lie on nights that are dark and beautiful, while she is sleeping, and I am listening.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Bad art

Monologue of an anxious heart

Nights,Cigarettes and the piano.