Category Archives: Memories

Life Was as It Was

It has been eight years. Time passes. It creates a distant fog, blurring memories. I was thinking while sitting by myself, what if there was a magic line on which you could talk to your departed other half. No one knows how long one is going to live,or how soon it will be time to go. Hence these few lines.

I’m ringing your phone

Hoping to hear

You were coming back home

I never knew

How futile it will be

To not hear from you

A magic line, appearing above

The sound of your voice

Coming through

Sitting alone

Longing for you

To be back home

Life was, as it was

(Sheen, August 2020)

Mushroom


A view of Son’s previous home. I had to delete the overall view to keep out its number.

Son’s house in Sugar Land went to his ex after his divorce. He let it be, because of his three sons. Mushrooms would occasionally show up on the front lawn. I was tempted to gather them, but I didn’t know whether they were safe to eat, so other then to take a photo, or two (looked through photos, I must have deleted them) I didn’t pluck them. 
My late husband’s sis in law K was fond of mushrooms. They grew abundantly on her father’s agricultural land. We tasted those mushrooms, when husband, and I visited with his brother A and his wife. I wish I had asked K for the recipe. The taste was simply divine. I have never come across mushrooms cooked so deliciously. K died in 2004 of breast cancer, while A died recently on November 6. They had no children. A used to go, and lie beside K’s grave for hours on end. He didn’t marry after his wife’s death.

Today is the end of our internet, and Son, and I are leaving on Monday. I will try to post via my phone’s hot spot if it’s possible. It may be a week I will be able to visit my favorite blogs, or write. So bye for now. Be safe, and be happy. Sheen.

DAILY PROMPT

Mushroom

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Dignify

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Needing to learn some recipes, I asked my late husband to let me have his Brigade cook for a few hours. He turned out to be a very dignified man. My husband would always praise his cooking whenever he would be staying out with the troops on the numerous military exercises they had.

I learnt from the best. He seemed to be from a respectable family. I felt that unfortunate circumstances forced him to be in a lowly job. I feel sadness at his untimely death which happened a month after I met him. I came to know after quite some time. I wish I had gotten his address to get in touch with his family.

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Dignify

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Ooze

My daughter was getting married. While shopping for a couple of nail polishes to match the clothes I was going to wear, I came across a new kind of hairspray. It squirted colorful stars into the hair. Though it was costly, but was a must have, so I bought it.

Marriage functions are a three days affair — Mehndi, marriage ceremony that is Shadi and Walima. The first two functions are held by the girl’s parents, and Walima is by the boy’s parents. 

I never got to use my hairspray. We had guests staying at our home, who had come to attend the marriage ceremony. Who tried my hairspray? I found it empty on my dressing table. Someone tried it, and left it oozing out. Must have pressed it too much. 

I remember those three days being extremely tired by the festivities. I missed my daughter, realizing that her days with us were over, and she belonged to someone else now. After the marriage ceremony, when we came back  I started sobbing the minute we entered our home. My sis in law Z tried to console me, and told me not to cry, but to pray to God for my daughter’s happiness in her new life.

The first few months without my daughter were difficult to bear. She had been my constant companion, since her birth, and never been away from me for a single day. When she was home she would be dogging my footsteps. She was my baby. My late husband being wise cautioned me not to divulge my grief to her, so that she won’t feel burdened. Gradually I became used to living without her with us.

In her marriage video when her in laws are taking her away, my head dips down, and I start crying. It’s really strange but when that part is replayed I always get tears in my eyes even after so many years.

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Ooze

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Foggy

2nd August is my husband’s fifth death anniversary. May his soul rest in peace. Ameen.

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Today is the day 

You left elsewhere

Five years of my life have sped away

Foggy days reminds me of you

Makes me inexplicably sad

Overcast skies spill rain from above 

Joins me in tears shed this day

(Sheen-August2017)

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Foggy

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The Village Gate

The perimeter walls around our village home are sixteen feet high, and so is the gate at the front. There is a smaller one for passing on foot within the larger one. When the house was newly built by late husband R, the gate was painted a lighter shade of blue. I didn’t object to the color as long I had finally acquired a home in the village, and what I had inside our home.

Husband’s younger brother A had gotten married, and with A, Mrs A, mother and father in law, their home had no further space left for us (husband, two kids and myself). I was so happy at having my own home to come to, when we made our frequent excursions to our village. It was wonderful to have everything in place. 

The year before last the outside of the house was in a pretty bad shape. Since R’s death in 2012, and myself being away the house went from bad to worse. While buying the paints for the house, unbeknown to me, the painter had slipped in a metallic shade of dark grey color for the gate.

It simply looked awful when I first looked at the new color on the gate. I was dismayed, and angry with the painter at the thought of spending additional money on revamping the color. A day, or two later when I came to pay the workers, the color had dried, and looked different from the initial color. It looked much better, and I was happy at not spending more money on it.

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Gate

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Jangle

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Beginning:

The wind chimes jangled over the door

Late husband angerly swore

Why does this thing hang over the door

Later:

The wind chimes jangled

Not a word would he say

Keeping quiet

He would pass through the door

He started liking it

By the way

(Sheen-July2017)

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Jangle

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Sail


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My late husband was stationed at Rajshahi. He came on a fifteen days leave for our wedding. After the plane hop from Lahore to Dacca, we kept changing boats. I felt sick all the way. I had the re current thought at intervals,  and wondered when my ordeal was going to be over?
I couldn’t eat. Everything was different, the taste wasn’t one I was used to. The smell of water was abhoring. It was sickening. I kept my thoughts to myself. I didn’t say anything to my husband. 

Who knew that I would be sailing all the way to Rajshshi?

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Sail

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A New Set of Wheels

Late husband had set his mind on buying new wheels meaning a new car despite the opposition from my side. We didn’t need one. The car belonging to him had barely done eleven thousand miles. It was a very comfortable car. 

I thought it suited us fine. Dear husband refused to be convinced on the merits of his car. While I remained opposing buying a new one, he kept trying to change my views. He didn’t had the heart to go against my wishes. A day came when my resistance crumbled.

He sold it to delighted new owners who were really happy to get our car at a bargain price. The day they drove away in it, they were grinning from ear to ear, and while they were buying it they kept exclaiming over the almost new condition of the interior of our car.

The new car met with an accident within a month of R’s acquiring it. A truck banged it in the rear, badly denting it. We had it repaired, and used it for almost two years. I sold it after his death. My children wanted me to keep it, and sell mine, but his was costlier, and I needed the money to pay taxes. They didn’t want a part of their father to let go.

The day I parted with his car was a sad day for me. It was like losing him all over again. While the car was standing in the garage, it seemed he was still there. It was the awful realization he wasn’t coming back, and will never be among us.

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Wheel

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