Rencounter

Little girls were we when we spent time giggling in laughter,

Those were the best days when our cycle bells always jingled together;

Here we are today with two decades of life dodging behind,

Still innocently bound in friendship with boundaries undefined;

But a day shall come when you moved out and so would I,

One fine day I shall return and you shall take some while,

We shall be in touch always anticipating the reunion;

Your thoughts reminded by every item I set my eyes on;

I shall lounge and rest in boredom,

Waiting for you to lift the cobwebs off my mind’s home;

Days shall turn into one full year,

New toddlers would know me as a woman of smear;

To prove that all bad things have an end,

I shall receive a phone call with your voice resonating from the other end;

You shall say that you returned home,

The call shall pour life into me through my dome;

I shall mumble a silent, “I shall meet you in the evening”,

Too low to measure in decibels of hearing;

But there I will be as soon as you hang up, yelling in joy,

The world once again looking all modest and coy;

A peep in the mirror and I shall ask myself if you will recognize me,

The next moment I shall start wondering how you will look to me;

I shall complete my afternoon chores in haste,

Lest they disturb me while I examine your state;

The evening shall arrive and in thick heavy steps I shall start,

A sting shall start as well in the lump of my throat;

With every step I take forward, the pain shall accentuate,

Pain at the thought of losing the joy to anticipate;

So, I shall walk back promising myself to meet you the next day,

One more day of anticipation shall refill me with increased vigour;

The next day I shall wake up earlier than the sun,

The toddlers shall jerk at seeing me up and on;

I shall work with no procrastination,

Lest the evening shall witness another promise at anticipation;

As the evening arrives so shall the stinging pain,

A few steps from the door, I shall walk back again;

I shall skip a weekend to meet you on a weekday,

And on a weekday I shall promise myself a weekend stay;

I shan’t call you afraid that you might show up,

I shan’t receive a call from you expecting me to show up;

Years shall pass thus with me turning out to be a successful woman,

“A person who never procrastinates a thing”, people shall call on;

Deep inside, I shall laugh to my heart’s content,

“Procrastination was all I did to survive”, I shall lament;

After many years, one day I shall meet you at the gates of heaven,

Your sulking eyes demanding me an answer for my absence;

Apologetically I shall tell you all these verses,

And then you shall say,

“Thank you for not showing up ever. I survived in anticipation of your arrival”.