 Ode to my daughter
Sometimes when I am in a pensive mood, I intently look at your
wedding photograph. I imagine you are like the roses in your bouquet.
Both have the same sweetness.
 Roses with a lovely shade of pink just about to bloom with petals so
soft and sweet scented.
Thorns in the stalks, but invisible. Your face portrays a picture of
your heart. Innocence, virtue, modesty and simple beauty, Amalgamation
of all these brimming with happiness.
That pinch of stubbornness in you is invisible, like the horns in the
stalks. Your prince charming, majestically holding your arm, Just a step
behind you, with a pleasant smile lighting up his dimply cheeks with
glee. As it to tell me, “Don’t worry mum, I’ll take care of your
precious gem” I heave a sigh of relief.
- Srimathie Piyadasa.
I saw how my dad left us without looking back at her. I saw how she
sat on an armchair gazing at the gate for him to comeback.
He never came. Mum never stopped running to the gate when she heard
the shutting of the gate. She never tried to change anything in his
room. She lived in her memories of the life she had with him while my
dad enjoyed his life with this woman who is standing in front of me. How
many times had I wanted to kill her when I saw my mother’s tears? How
many times had I wanted back the blissful moments when she suffered in
her death bed. But her last words were “forgive her”. But how can I?
“Why did you want him?” I asked.
“Because I loved him and I thought he loved me too.” “I think you may
be having a good married life, enjoying its happiness after breaking a
family?”
“You may be happy to hear this. Your father died two years ago from
lung cancer.
He suffered for six months. I had to clean all his blood and vomit.
But all he said in his deathbed was forgive me, Latha.”Wind blew hard
and the candle blew out. Dried leaves fell from trees. She walked away
from me and my wife took hold of my hand. |
