Through the window of my heart

It is a late autumn afternoon in the quaint town. Clouds float in the blue sky like fluffy cotton, strands of white slowly giving way to pink and orange hues. A nip in the air carries the aroma of sewali blooming in his front yard, from the tree that stands triumphantly bearing pristine delicateness, year after year. It was not too long ago that Gagan would be pruning, watering, planting and getting a good workout but today he strolls across his meticulously curated garden. In the far end stands his home and therein lives a family that has been held together by sweat, intellect and love. He opens the wooden double front doors and steps into the spacious living room. He eases into his reclining chair placed beside a two pane clear glass window. His dwindling health makes him frequently exhausted these days, though he is nonchalant and unrelenting to the cancer that has gripped his life. Life isn't fair but it is generous... the feeling of being connected to so many people, the contentment that comes from within.. all embraced in the smile at the corner of his mouth.

As afternoon turns into evening, a ray of orange sunlight streams through the glass window to spend a moment with him. The ephemeral orange beam slowly fades as the sun sinks behind the urban skyline. It is the time between day and night.. when the sky becomes lighter before it turns darker... azure..sapphire..charcoal. A glow heralds the moon. Warm lighting creates a cozy atmosphere in the living room. Thoughts are running through him as he sits with his miles and memories. A firm believer in using media to educate the messes, he found purpose and peace in his media career. Growing up, his children witnessed many a passionate review of poetic and literary work. Aspiring authors and composers seeking guidance, respect and affection writ in their gestures. If the walls of this living room could speak, they would speak of the plethora of rich discussions on varied topics that continued over the years, in closed circles and with other like-minded people. And then there is his closest group of friends. Propinquity brought them together but resonance in thoughts still keep them together. Each brings excitement and joy to the other by their mere presence. The kind of connectivity that is rare. The story gets even better when his relatives, linked not only by blood but also by affection, come into the picture. Simple, genuine people whose presence imprinted in his children the value of always connecting with one's roots. 

His reverie breaks when his wife approaches him with an old photo album.

They flip through the pages together, reminiscing old times over two cups of tea. The album holds a cache of memories made with family and friends. Black and white photographs, coloured ones that have faded into sepia tones and those that haven't yet lost colour. They smile at a photograph of him with his two young children, all of them smiling resolutely at the camera. Not only filial affection but also the mutual respect that was to evolve and the values that were to permeate are palpable in the photograph. And they did. Hold on to your hopes and fight to make them come true. Toughen up to face your inadequacies and life's setbacks.  Think positively; optimism yields positive results. Eat only until you are three quarters full, always keep a bit of the hunger. Never forget to stop and smell the roses as the simple pleasures of everyday life are sweet and satisfying. Mind travels the fastest.. one doesn't need to travel physical distances to form perspectives about societies and cultures far and wide. These are all atavistic life lessons and he had a way of imparting these values to his children by consistently living them day in and day out and through anecdotes and stories.

Turning another page of the album they see a rather poorly lit photograph. It was clicked many years ago during a power outage. A silhouette of a young boy holding a guitar giving the impression that his willowy fingers would be sliding expertly up and down the strings. A little girl sitting on the sofa alongside her mom. In an instant both of them recall the specifics of that evening. It was a blustery evening. Gray and dark clouds blanketed the sky. Dusk had set in. Wind rattled the windows. Thankfully the windows had been closed and latched right before the rain made its descent. Suddenly power shut down and lights went off. The boy brought on his guitar and the girl was cajoled into singing her melodies. One of the songs, one of Gagan's all time favourites, says..... "every moment that I live, you live close to my heart". Perhaps he knows that he will always live close to the hearts of those whose lives he has touched.

He does not know when the inevitable will happen. It may be days, months or years. However, what matters in this moment is the here and the now, and the feeling of being connected to so many people and to so many memories.