A Cry By The Candlelight

Numerous nights have passed, numerous

Since I witnessed absolute darkness

My sleep has given me many

But the sense of vision has been left wanting

For those nights when the house turned pitch dark in a moment

For those walks within the dark rooms, recalling where the chair and the table had been

For those moments of triumph on having discovered the match box

For those pink and blue colored candles..

The colorless candle always seemed boring, its tears pathetic

But those colored candles created a wax world of their own..

Tilting a candle, letting a few drops fall and placing the candle firmly over the solidified drops

Was one of the biggest achievements of my childhood..

On many occasions, I have believed that my sister possessed magical powers

When her finger moved continually across the candle flame

It took me time to realize that the center of the flame was harmless, only the top hurt

Like it is with many of the short-tempered people

The core is harmless, only the surface threatens..

The candle signified unity for me

Each member of the family, engrossed in his/her work,

Would surround this sentimental guy once darkness settled

Tales and jokes would be shared - family banter at its best

The laughter would echo in the mechanical silence, and the bonding seeming endless

But, suddenly, the tube-light would flash

And screams of joy would follow

Each member would return to his/her work

Leaving me and the then smoke-emitting candle alone..

I miss those night time power-cuts badly now

In this era of generators and power-backup devices that I despise greatly..

I want those power cuts again

Not just for the sake of the bonding

A family’s bonding depends on more than just a candle and darkness

But I want them for much more..

For remembering those moments of sharing in the darkness

When the shadows seemed to reveal the true selves

For remembering those moments of mechanical silence

When the mind realized the beauty of human breath

For remembering those plastic and wooden hand-fans

When the trembling hands of a grandfather showed what affection meant

For remembering those nights when the neighbors would inquire eagerly, “Has the power gone at your house as well?”

For remembering those nights when all the doors in an apartment remained open

For remembering those nights when the terrace of every house teemed with life

For remembering those nights when the moon’s beauty was noticed

But most important of all, most important of all,

For remembering those nights when power did not make man powerless!