Hidden

She sits there with a half-smile,

Listening to him or pretending to listen.

Wonder what she is trying to conceal.

Would that smile fade away from there,

Or bloom into a wider curve.

I could never say, and I will never guess.

Her eyes looking at him,

While not looking at all.

Wonder what that stare hides,

Will it rise to pray or look down upon rejection?

I would never attempt to comprehend.

I see no anger in them, nor any trace of sadness.

The moment has paused there,

And I don’t know if its love,

Or a striving desire to belie.

She looks neither old, nor young.

The charm lingers every now and then,

Before deserting and pervading the face again.

She speaks, and I can’t hear what it is,

Because life goes on, the world doesn’t pause ever.

The restaurant is buzzing with people, walking past us,

And each table has a story to tell.

Stories that eyes tell eyes.

Stories that can be read on faces.

Stories that make you ponder.

Stories that create memories to retain.

Stories that kill the passing time.

And stories that remind me of you,

While I sit here alone.

Because you never came,

And I know, you never will.

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It goes on

"In three words I can sum up everything I have learned about life: it goes on"

Robert Frost

People come into our life, stay and then move on, things happen, things change, things that existed no longer do and amidst all this, life just goes on. I have always revered my grandfather and he was a great inspiration. However he never liked gifts so when I got my first salary in 2007 I could not quite reckon what to gift him. Not that I had to gift him but I wanted to. Then I thought of his library where he has collection of books starting from encyclopedias,  to books on science and mathematics, also novels because being a Professor of Physics he also liked literature. So, I gifted him the third book of Stephen Hawkins, 'Black Hole and Baby Universes' because he had the first two. However for a long time I was not quite sure if he read it, until his death in 2013 when his desk and bookshelf was being cleaned. I found he had read till the last page of the book because he had underlined some sentences till the end, that he probably thought was important. I then moved to the first page where years back I had written, 

'Dear Aja (Grandpa), 

I owe you a lot, 

Yours lovingly,
 Miki'

It doesn't feel like he will never be around again and it was difficult to accept his sudden death, I spent my entire childhood in my grandparents' house after all. But his death taught me how to face death and how to go on with life, just like Robert Frost says, 'it goes on'. 

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