Skeleton at My Chamber Door

Everyday, a skeleton

Comes to the door of my medical chamber

And asks, “Doctor Baba, have you come?”

I don’t say yes

Fearing that orthopedic structure

Would enter the chamber

And take a chair

Refusing to go out!

 That rattling configuration of bones

Sometimes I meet outside

Before I open the chamber

The bony jaws break into chatter

Out of courtesy and some Christian love

I stand often to listen to the clatter

Hoping it would stop

Before I fall unconscious on the earth

That 90 year old female skeleton

I once touched with my hands

In an effort to comfort

And sympathize with her sorrows

When she related her story

In her “ Bangaal” Bengali (East Bengal dialect)

I caught some part of the story

And guessed the rest

She must have been

One of the most beautiful girls

In Bangladesh in her youth

Desired by many young men

Married to the most eligible bachelor

Lived a happy family life

Brought up sons two and girls three

All married and with families of their own now

Years have passed

 Her husband passed away

Taking along the joy of her life

Her sons live in new houses

Well furnished and polished

Keeping their mother in an old room outside

Cold like a fridge in winter,

Hot like an oven in summer

Roof leaking in rainy showers

She is made to cook her own food

Wash her dishes

Wash her clothes

 Make her bed and keep awake

Hoping to die at night

The breath in the skeleton

 must be robustly resilient

to do all her chores and continue

to blow in and out.

“I don’t wish to live any more

When will God take me?

Do you have any answer?” she asks.

“Only God knows. It can be any day. Just be ready.”

I’m not sure if the answer is right

For her Bhogoban (God) has already taken her

The person before me is just a skeleton

Wrapped in skin!

Xavier Bage

Wed, March 16, 2016

image: Free image from Pixabay