Dear Heart! New OS 07/04/17

Dear Heart!

Though the heart is a muscle

But it still breaks

Crashing without a sound

But leaving plenty of pain

Dear heart, you had to see this coming. How could you be so blind? You are to blame for this torture!

It wasn't a normal day, nor anything from my nightmares. I walked along the pebbled path in the heavy rain searching for peace but that wasn't for me, it seems. Her words, her adamant voice burnt my passion to live a peaceful life.

'I have a life, a life which doesn't stem from you and her, Maan. I'm not just a mother to an ailing daughter, or just your housewife. I am more than that, I want more than that' she screamed shutting her ears to the cries of their 2year old.

'I can't do this anymore, I won't do this anymore. I'm going' her determined luggage rolled down the porch and drove away in a hurry. He stood there, all alone on the driveway looking at his fugitive wife and then turned around to see their baby, no his baby screaming in neglect.

The wind pushed and pulled at the branches, scratching them against my numb body which was immune to these measly attempts. Every so often, the wet leaves kissed past my skin igniting a fear yet my valiant legs continued through the route of obscurity. The wind was venomous tonight, it stung every inch of my bare body; stiffening my hands, face and ears. The cold air constricted my chest, making it different to even breathe. But did I want to, not without her at least.

Dear heart, how can you just die a soundless death? Why are you so selfish?

The acidic rain dribbled down my hair and fell silently on to my cheek, the next drop followed the same pursuit but nothing angered my confused demeanour. She had it all, a caring husband and a darling daughter, then why would she want more? Falling onto my knees, I scream a 'why?'. Why me? Why is it that my wife wasn't happy with me? Why it is that my daughter is ill, why revert all bad effortlessly onto me? But other than the thundering sky, there was silence. Echoing heart-breaking silence.

Dear heart, I can feel you racing in your cage even though my breathing is constant. I burn in your agony and I pain in your torment. But why should I suffer when you were too weak to notice the change?

Sitting on the cold curb of the pavement, I thought of how much she's changed over the past year, she wasn't no longer my Diya. Diya wouldn't mourn about my wage reduction nor would she care about the hospital expenditure, and she for sure wouldn't argue on every minute issue. Rather she would have cocooned our baby in her warmth and basked in the glory of our love. Gone was my Diya, gone were those days of love and care.

Dear heart, is this another one of your tests? Because I feel like I'm failing; a bad husband, a bad father and a bad son. Is there anything I'm good at?

'Maan I've brought Muskaan to the hospital' I heard Dadi cry lurching my dead body into a violent guilt attack. Muskaan should have been my priority but in my sorrow I left her, much like her mother, I left her alone with Dadima and now she's ill, all because of me. I knew she's a heart patient, how could I be so careless and leave her crying? 'Please' a referent prayer escapes from my mouth while my legs break into a run, all the way hoping for the well-being of my baby and her heart.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Dear heart, o the ever silent organ why did you leap forward, what was it in that child that made you squirm in pain. Are you alive to yet again leave me squandering in your presence?

I looked at the child in front of me, heaving in pain. Life was truly unfair, a motherless child and a childless mother.

'Oxygen now' I shouted looking at the small purpling body, unknowingly a tear escaped from those stubborn eyes. Why now?' I feel the question rise from within me, haven't I trained my body to not react. Seeing children like this is normal for a paediatrician but somewhere I knew this child wasn't normal, for she made my heart beat increase. She also managed to come to my life on the day when Kabir left, that day which still kills me to live.

Dear heart, have mercy on me. Don't remind me of my bitter past! Die the same death you died long ago. Leave me alone!

'Don't worry she'll be OK' I promised stepping out the theatre after a good few hours to be stopped by a frail old lady and an angry young man who had eyes as red as lava.

'Be honest Dr Handa, how is my child?' He questioned back alarming my heart, she'll be fine' I reassured myself before answering him.

'Mr Khuranna you have a strong child in there, she's responded well to the operation and medication so far' it was all true but why did it feel like I'm persuading myself and not the distraught father, why?'

Once in the confines of my cold cabin, did I dare to weep feeling my empty stomach at my lose, my Kabir; my child that was brutally snatched away.

'Dev don't please, I beg you' she cried balancing herself at the top of the stairs but he didn't stop, those menacing steps rampaged the floor and pushed her back in horror.

'I DON'T WANT THAT CHILD' she heard him bark from the top while she curled into a ball of pain below. Dev wasn't like that, he was compassionate and endearing but it took one patient, one female patient and a few mishaps for him to turn from Doctor Dev to a devious suspended cold blooded murderer. Killing not only Kabir that night, but Geet too.

Dear heart, do you dare to feel the same pain? Are you ready to open the old bespoken wounds?

'Kabir' I cried looking at the last sonography of my child who died on this exact day. A cold dark night and a hideous monster stole my child two years ago. Kabir was gone but so was Dev, now an ex-husband and a prisoner sentenced for GBH (grievous bodily harm) and manslaughter. 'Kabir' I hear my tear laden voice whisper brushing my small excuse of a hand, which was only figment of my former self over his picture. He, my baby malnourished of my love and I, his mother hungry for his joy.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Dear heart, don't betray me this time I might just loose the hope to live.

Muskaan smiled at Maan clapping her hands in glee, to which Maan just kissed her soft cheeks whispering a 'sorry' for leaving her behind in his misery.

Geet stood a few metres away, looking at the chart in hand while in reality all her attention was on the baby who beckoned her forward. 'MAMA' she called finally breaking into Maan's and Geet's thoughts, forcing them to finally acknowledge each other in shock.

A MOMENT, ONE LONG SILENT MOMENT

Dear heart, why do I feel your rapid beat? O the mute one is this something? Are you giving me a sign?

Maan stood motionless staring at Geet with renewed eyes, for she was also stuck for words. 'Mama' Muskaan cried louder holding her hands out for Geet while the two elders looked at one another in apprehension. Somewhere both wanted the same, a mother for baby Muskaan.

Muskaan's wailing took centre stage, as Geet pushed past the stagnancy and in through Maan's desolate circle. 'Hiya baby' she cried bending on her knees while circling an elongated arm around the squealing bundle.

Dear heart, why so poundingly quiet? Have you gone missing again!

It was Geet's soft whimper to Muskaan's humane touches that brought Maan to her level, he looked curiously between Muskaan and the doctor before letting one of his arms brush over Geet's while resting on the opposite side, forming a criss-cross behind Muskaan's back. The slight touch resonated in their eyes, caution swirling in the pits of hollowness. But every alarm died along with Muskaan's musical laughter, gluing their broken hearts.

Dear heart, I think I may find peace soon.

Finding a solution to a broken heart is easier than you think

For it is only a muscle

So it'll grow stronger with each tear

Live for tomorrow, feel for today and forget yesterday.

(Note: 1^st portion is Maan as first person, 2^nd is Geet and the 3^rd portion is done in third person and the heart soliloquies in the 3^rd part is relevant to both Maan and Geet. Their past story is in 3^rd person and in italics. Sorry for the confusion, if it causes any.)