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The sun was setting, with a beautiful color leaving in the Sky. We were heading to Edinburg. Our van stopped on the way, as that was the time for evening prayer. I could see my husband’s hazy figure, sitting straight on the prayer rug. His face with beard was not fully seen, but I could sense that his prayer was done. He was uttering some supplications. The light was disappearing quickly, kids were watching on the phone. I was feeling a sharp pain inside, a pain I will have to sustain from now on. A pain that every struggling couple has to endure. I never nag to ask too much, it seemed almost an intrusion. 
 
And then my sister came to my mind. 
“Why?” 
She was trembling a bit. It was time to take her injection, to tame her agitation down. The rest will be defined by a dark, numb phase, clouded by post-medication drowsiness. She submerged in a deep sleep, would be snoring heavily. Her mouth will be wide open, an awkward thing to observe. 
 
Yet, one would never deny that she had a pretty sharp face, her sleeping face looked far better, far calmer. 
 
The broken glass was all over the floor. The aftershock was written all over the face of our father. 
“Was I an unwanted child?” 
A terrible, sharp question. She tried to shake vigorously father’s silence, usually who was also an angry man.  
 
There could be a thousand persuasive answers to convince the logic. But that would fall short to fill up an intensely irrational and illogical moment. An insane moment of emotional outburst! 
 
Last thing I remember, She was taken to the hospital. She was wearing a light-colored Sari. A bunch of people was holding her with compassion. And among that compassionate gathering, she was standing with a pale, puzzled face, a disorganized self, questioning every attitude, every possibility of merciful sensitivity. One might not blame her, People simply love to gossip about grief of others, miserable other lives interest people, and that is a normal tendency, quite often 
 
She returned from the hospital. She still had that puzzled look written on her face, still unsure, still pondering within herself. Sometimes that face still haunts me in my dream...,, that puzzling, unsure look on her face. The vivid pain of a helpless moment. 
 
Yet, when I think about her, I could clearly recall one day. I was planning to grab a book from her room. I was expecting her to be sleeping. But, instead, I found her praying. She was reciting in her prayer. A calm... Composed face. I will never forget the face. So peaceful. A face with devotion. 
 
Poetry gave me love, gave me relief. And so did meditation. We all need a softer touch of spirituality in our lives. An irrational moment to love and be loved. 

A divine moment.
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