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This wounded heart shall beat unhealed
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Words of hope ring loud before they are subdued by spaces still.
And the gush of endless action does not my emptiness fill.
I feel your warm, honest embrace, but my cavern walls are cold.
Prayers, chants and philosophy, promise much but they don’t hold.
Kindness, intent, courage, wisdom, reason, cannot me rescue
In my heart full of gratitude only helplessness rings true
My eyes are shut, I cannot sleep, neither dreams have I nor fears.
Let them be in the dark lest I drown an ocean with my tears.
Time distances, distracts and dulls, but the odds it heals are slim
This wounded heart shall beat unhealed, till that rendezvous with Him.
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Tarun, Sharmistha and I go back a long time. Somewhere amidst the luscious green hills of India’s northeast, in the valley of the massive Brahmaputra, about 25 years ago, in the sprawling and chaotic city of Guwahati, our paths intersected. Tarun was my brilliant classmate in college and Sharmistha was our dear friend from a neighbouring college in the city. Tarun’s easy going, gentle and jovial nature paired beautifully with Sharmistha’s sincere, sensitive and endearing simplicity. Several years later when I learnt that they had decided to tie the knot it came as wonderful news. When Arunay was born in 2008 my wife, Kavita, and I lived in Raleigh, North Carolina, USA. Tarun and Sharmistha were in Cleveland Ohio, and soon thereafter moved to Maryland, just a short 5-hour drive away from us. Many visits followed - birthdays, baby showers, winter breaks, and often for no particular reason.
Arunay was the first born among our physically and emotionally close group of friends during the late 2000s. I recall being struck by Arunay as I watched him grow - I had never seen a child with such emotional maturity, such kindness of heart and such an easy personality. Being around him was calming and uplifting. I loved asking him puzzles and brain teasers, sharing silly jokes and word puns, reading to him, painting with him, and engaging in any manner of physical activity - making and flying paper planes, playing soccer and cricket, and ice skating. What made him particularly endearing was the attitude with which he took these experiences in. He would listen attentively, he would ask his questions politely and respectfully, and always take it all in - be it the trick that cracks open a puzzle or a punch line to a joke - with the dawning of that big sunny smile on his countenance. Who knew that children could be such a joy!
Arunay was, in many ways, the child who gave me and my wife, Kavita, the confidence to start a family of our own. Our first born, Meera, 3 years younger to Arunay, connected with Arunay ‘baia’ (her ability to pronounce ‘bhaiyya’ - brother in Hindi - had not yet matured) instantly when we visited Tarun and Sharmistha in 2014. They had moved to California by then, and family responsibilities and physical distances had made our mutual visits less frequent. This made every opportunity to meet a celebration. I recall that during that visit, Tarun and Sharmistha had generously organized a surprise baby shower for us as we were expecting our second child that year. I also recall that Meera and Arunay had a blast together - doing somersaults on their king-sized mattress, playing in the dirt in their backyard, exploring all of Arunay’s toys, and generally having a whale of a time.
When I received the phone call in January, with news of the freak accident that took this kind and gentle child, the universe just stopped being. We all stepped into a different universe at that moment. Arunay lives in this new universe not in the body of one little child, but in a thousand hearts and minds, in a hundred thousand shared experiences, in a million fragments of memories, in a billion tears - each one reflecting back that incredible radiance, that impossible ease of being, that utterly disarming smile. Arunay will live on forever in this new universe.