Tamanna Ferdous Poet Prose

Mercy

I heard the rumor. The couple is splitting up. They are not a young couple; those middle-aged faces witnessed many winters; those eyes witnessed many tragedies through all these years. I heard the rumor from one of my friends. I was getting worried, agitated inside.

“How did you hear about this?” I asked.
“ About what?”
“About the separation?”
“ Never mind, I just came to know about this”, She seemed cold, reluctant to answer.

Smokey clouds; clouded thoughts. Big clouds, little clouds. Clouded elephants, clouded zebras, clouded archers. They form, diffuse and form again in another kind. Childhood revisited. Is it not so?

I was touching her hand. She was unconscious. This is her first attempt; alarming, tragic.
Why on earth sleeping pills are there? Intoxicating, numbing those pills!
“How are you feeling now?”, I was holding her hand, still.
She told something, something softly, unclear. Something said yet unsaid.

I was walking to the library. Nothing urgent, need to return a book. Walking slowly, without any rush. Walking on the sidewalk, pressing push buttons, crossing roads. An ordinary life in  a clutter of numerous lives. One out of many.

It was drizzling. I was walking in the drizzling rain. I loved the rain.
Those teardrops of the sky mingling with our teardrops of ordinary lives! Mingling with the divine mercy, for a new hope, for yet another day!

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