The Seven Days

The winter of January and excruciating pain, O what a blend
As I missed my long gone friend
Waited each moment for her
Remembering the good times
The kicks, the pushes, the whams
I missed them as I scrawl this down
Each day, when I used to get down from the train
My cell phone never rang
The inbox was empty
You haven’t ‘reached’
You never will for these seven days
My shoulders, they hung when I walked down the staircase
Even the rickshaw wallahs knew I am alone today
As I became the passenger of the three wheel tortoise
I began to look past the petrol pump, the road
Hanuman ji smiled and showered his blessing on the rickshaw wallah and me
I quickly shared my cause of agony with him
As he drove through the lane
My thoughts merged with the past
I look at the footpath
It is the same, but something’s nowhere to be found
It is us walking on it
I missed when you carefully crossed the road, occasionally, cursing the impetuous drivers
I missed when we talk about the worldly matters like grown ups
But are we grownups?
We are childlike at heart
Pure and innocent
Your computer's monitor missed you
Yes he did
He often asked me, “When will I wake up?”
When will I meet those three little puppies?
I didn't have an answer
Your table was cleaned often
With no coffee cup stains
But I hated it that ways
I wish to forget these seven days
But, my pen has immortalized it
The seven days, when each moment took a pause and asked
When will this end?