Sunday, May 11, 2008

As another sunday passes on

She could just feel it as she stretched out in bed
The Sunday smell
Not about lounging in bed longer, more the lure of a heap of Sunday papers
More sudoko and crosswords-yipee!
Also more kids outside the window playing cricket
And she loved that
Reminded her of her childhood and French toast
She would have French toast for lunch today
Few of the joys of living alone, not having to plan meals according to everyone’s tastes
A lazy morning stretching into a languid day
God bless manda for the awesome coffee she provides every hour
Everyone says you must reduce your caffine intake as you grow older
But then everyone has a problem with everything!
The alarm on the phone reminded her of a show she wanted to catch on Travel and Living
Paris, a city she loves. And so beautifully shot
What was the name of that parsi boy she’d gone there with?
Never mind
An afternoon in bed listening to her favourite music
A long lesuirely bath and her home smelling of her favourite fragrances
Watching the sun set standing in the balcony, feeling the breeze on her face, she was at peace
The phone rang. On time. Like everyday
Her best friend Binky. A constant in this ever changing world
Stella died. She announced with a twinge of pain
These things happen, I reasoned
When you’re 89, these things happen more often

2 comments:

Srinivas said...

it is a cinematic experience. like a beautiful scene flowing in the minds. Awesome piece of work shifa

mathatheist said...

"When you’re 89, these things happen more often".
Read an interview where Vijay Tendulkar adds a new perspective to this. More than the thought of losing peers, he says, "As I started growing up, the number of elders started decreasing, which is what I hated the most." I can only imagine how lonely the oldest man in the world must feel. Nice poem. Or prose. Or poem.