one silence too many

The kids I knew would always go to the weddings, while a child in me had always been attending the funerals.
One by one,
slowly and gradually they would all slip away,
empty chairs by the table
until the loudness of the silence took the central place in the house...

Shoelaces, ceiling fans, deep sea, hospital beds attached themselves to people to remove their faces from the album of memories.

I became immune to funerals,
until suddenly time caught me at the threshold,
somewhere between the past and future,
at midnight,
as the shadow of feet walking away fell into a shadow of feet coming back,
bringing in even louder words of silence.

I freeze for a moment,
as the cold hand of silences is touching me again,
not immune,
frightened of the silence of the words that need to be said before the time for farewells arrives too soon again...

Silence just one phone call away,
as I unpack the black dress and wear it in front of the mirror...
a wrinkle added itself to the face,
seamlessly bringing me one step closer to the day when my cup of tea will stand empty on the shelf...
undrunk, unsaid, untouched, untangled...

silent.

If Sita could

If Sita could...
Would she let herself out
into the brightness
of her own self?

Would she step out of the circle?
Whose circle was it anyway?

Did she hold Lakshman's hand
to stop him or to comply?

Great Freedom comes with great responsibility
for...
oneself
One Self
Self.

If Sita could, would she let her hair down and
allow them to
dance
freely
with passion for life?
Knowing,
that no Lakshman Rekha is there to protect her from decisions that she makes?

They are all hers,
the decisions,
to take a step, or not to take
and then
be free to chose
the safety of a well known confinement,
or the curvy path of...

single parenthood,
struggling to get that dream job,
cutting the hair short in the middle of hot summer,
loving the person fully in the colours of the rainbow...

If Sita could...
Would she get rid of the hypothetical clause
and turn it into affirmative,

Yes, I can and I will...

even though it might be scary and lonely at times
to walk down the path
of her own lines, words and choices,
breathing...
keeping her head high...

Own lines,
Own path,
Own Self,
Own Life...

If Sita will.


(For 'If Sita could' by Padmalatha Ravi)