I remember it was a winter afternoon. 1991, San Jose. Although, I’m slanting between November and December. My memories are getting as foggy as that day was, back in the fine era of high-school. We bunked the geography class of Sir Sean Austins, sat inside the empty school bus at the parking area, our hands entangled, like it was the last pieces of the unsolved jigsaw puzzle. Our calmness did mimic the finest cold days at the Antarctic, the nature that day was even calmer like the nights. I could hear your heartbeats so clearly, laying my ears against your deltoids. I knew for that moment, it’s forever, it was my highest ultimate and I could die in the next moment, leaving a smile worn by my corpse before they let it to decompose.

Winter of 1994 UoC, Cambridge. The day of our graduation. The wind was pretty much in a jolly mood, but it hardly could blow away my devastation. I had parents, who were so much indulged into one another, in the most negative way. They never had time to spare any of their quarrels, to look at a living creature that they had mutually cursed by bringing into their life. I remember it was you, who had encircled my body warmly, I smelt only of dried tears that day, I sounded only like irritating repetition of whimpers. You held me tight, whispered words that magically healed. On that coldest of days, you filled the gaps I felt all my life with a heat that has barely faded. You tousled my hairs, like I was some kid, which no doubt I was, but not physically. I, unutterably, had passed the crown of my life onto you that day.

13 January, 1999. We were the perfect couple, like what teenagers knit dreams for their future. Only that our bonding wasn’t backed by legitimacy and it hadn’t heard vows amidst a crowd staring at us. On that snowy evening, where we could barely breathe, you knelt, your knee was dipped in the layered snow. I had never seen before, the City of Light as bright as that paused moment of pleasant chilling vibes made it look. Neither I ever saw that again. The following day, I got a tattoo of your name on my shoulder, my body was too stiff and it gave a lesser pain. I do remember the bulk of your cheek muscles when you noticed it all of a sudden while sliding the sleeve off my body, your smile seemed cold yet happy.

3rd December, 2005.
Deadly winter storms had invited many deaths. Along with it, our daughters brought life into that instance. Their identical faces were competing with each other, for resembling you. The picture of us holding either of them still rules over the same portion of my house’s wall, irrespective of seasonal changes and emotional variations.

The freezing days of 2007 brought about the hidden side of your fading love. Our fire seemed like incapable of resisting any further winters. Our spark couldn’t survive against the hailstorm, it had been setting glaciers on fire for decades, but it has become too tired by now, it pleas to retire.

Year after year passed by. Months brought Summer and winter, autumn and winter, spring and winter, monsoon and winter, and sometimes just winter was what stopped by me.

We had been the separated couple, disastrous, like what mature people get worried about facing someday. Our daughters inherited eyes from you, misfortune from me. I knew I was repeating the sin on them, what my parents did on me.

The calendar reads 17th DECEMBER 2016. It’s shivery outside. Thick frozen coat keeps yours freshly dug tombstone ignited. You’ve already released into some other world, before settling our disputes, before legitimating our fragile knot. At least I wouldn’t have felt as much as a widow of how I feel now. Our daughters hardly allow me to have a glance of their presence, they’re mad at me. Justifiably. I had been a terrible mother, I would not commit any further a blunder by denying to this.

My voices aren’t reachable to you now, are they? Your body feels no winter, only mine do. I feel, the best of mine has tasted death along with you, at least I badly hope so. They belonged to you, I give to you the portion of mine which was your possession. The left piece of mine I take with me, I will lay it on my bed. Even though it’s been a decade of us sleeping on separate land of this earth, today I feel my bed too bare, too vacant. At least I sighted the glittery, sometimes cloudy top everyday to convince that we share the same sky.
That we share daughters. That we share time, and a space in this same lame materialistic world. That we share a broken marriage. What lullaby I have for myself to comfort me with sleep today? Why this winter is being harsher honey? Why doesn’t it take my life or leave me alone?

At least previously I swallowed the numbness thinking that we share the same winter.


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