If Only I was #BackFromTheDead

First of all, i wouldn't like to come back after i died. Secondly, if at all i have to for IndiSpire edition two, i will come but may be lets say after few years. May be a decade.

Here is an account of what i saw in 2024. 

One fine day, we the hell dwellers were given free passes to listen to Jagjeet Singh's ghazals in heaven on the eve of new year. There God, who was an avid fan of Jaggi ji got bugged with a ghost who was consistently peeping down from heaven, using unsolicited use of wifi GPS services available during the concert. God wasted no time and took that ghost on remand and interrogated "What's bothering you so much in between "yeh daulat bhi le lo, yeh shaurat bhi le lo" ghazal. The hell's super excited ex-blogger ghost said, Sire, when i died the crowd was so much that they pushed me in hell without listening to my last wish.
Hmm, anything left unattended while your took ride to yamraj ? God asked.
Yes Lord, for once i want to go back to the mortal earth and check the pageviews count of my blog. Came an instant reply. 
God was like what the Fairy god mother ? Really. Is that all ? 
Ghost said yes. Ok, permission granted but just for 1 day. Okay. 

The moment i stepped out of  hellaven zone, i felt so light, fresh and airy. All my life i chased XS clothing size only to oscillate between M to L to XL. Finally i have won over the weighing scale and curbed it at an acute angel. Wow.

Let's first start from my native town, Brijbhoomi, Mathura. I went home, looking for my papa and mummy. Papa has retired, hair all white, wrinkles have become prominent and so is medications of BP. Mummy has become old, once very beautiful woman has finally come to terms with death of her first child, eyes are sunken but still brown. She is in kitchen, trying to figure out how to cut a jackfruit using mustard oil, the way Papa has been teaching her ever since 1980. In front of kitchen, sitting at dining table, Papa couldn't help but look at the large laminated wedding photo of her badi bitiya and remember how she used to love this curry. Suddenly, i cared to see the calendar. Its 1st October. Oh, then, moong dal halwa too must be in menu. 

I wanted to go and check my room upstairs to see if anything has changed. But then i couldn't believe to what i heard coming out of our idiot box. The Nation wants to Know has been renamed as Comedy Nights with Arnab Goswami and look at the irony. He Ornab da is interviewing Kapil Sharma - as he is contesting for Delhi's CM election from the AAP. I was like, where is my muffer wale Khejriwal Ji. I was just about to wonder and someone changed the channel. It was on Colors, Rahul Pappu Ka Swaymabar is coming soon and entries were called for with special emphasis from Amethi. I wanted to watch it more, again channel was swapped. 

The ghost was getting impatient. And suddenly, mummy called at her loudest voice, Sonaaaaaaa, khana khaane aa jao, TV band kar ke? And a bubbly, chirpy girl of 12 years came running. She was prettier, smarter and wittier version. Her voice resembled mine, her eyebrows her dad's. The more i saw her, more i wanted to leave that place as she is me. What is she doing here? May be she came down to celebrate my birthday. 

Though i trespassed my own house as a ghost, i couldn't help but feel the gravity of emotions and memories attached to that place. And it doesn't look nice that even after achieving nirvana, or so they say, i have no control over tears, am i bloody still alive. God, must be crazy if i will switch my mind now and ditch the luxuries of hellaven. Now the TV is integrated with the PC, how do i check my blog pageviews...Duhhh...recalling why did i come back in first place.

I think i should move to my home sweet home. I checked at my radar and found Sinha Ji - who is fidgeting with his tablet. The only thought that was killing me if he is where i had left him?

Our first home.  

I had promised my husband, come what may, rags to riches, we will never sell our house and never ever run in the rat race of accumulating flats which barely have any soul. 

Facial features haven't change much, double chin is there- i mumbled how he hated going to gym. Things are same then, lifestyle wise. His wisdom have started to tell stories shining from his side locks and a thin frame specs is further aggravating the serious person he already was.Only lucky few have had the privilege to know his lighter side. With the birth of my daughter, i was relived. That even if i am not there, she is there, my mini me. Given the 16 months that i had spent with her plus count the 9 months inside the womb, she is 80% me and 20% him. I was so happy, even if my spirit dies she will be there to take care of him and tell why so serious. Life is to be lived once, each day, each passing moment. Its not a checklist to be completed or so to exhibit to the world what we have achieved.  

I again whirled around like the ghost, hovering his head to escape from emotional upheaval i was succumbing into. 

Let me see, what is he doing. I peeped. Ahhh ! he switched it off his tab. His phone was ringing . It's an ISD number. Mummy Papa has called him from Patna, only to remind that he has to visit temple today and offer prayers in name of their Badi Bahu. His choice of words have shrunken even more. He manages with his hmmm , haan, yaad hai. Mummy wasn't able to control her tears and ask him, India vapas kab aa rahe ho Monu? Kab se India wala ghar band pada hai? 

Ghar nahi flat ? He replied and abruptly ends the conversation. No emotions on face, whatsoever inside.

At that moment, i wanted to come alive from the ashes like a phoenix and listen to the conversation happening. To offer him a cup of tea, i was so used to, of share my never ending wishlist which he always pretended he was listening to and i know he is nodding in yes just to see me happy. I started to lose control over myself. Time was ticking, barely few hours were left as I had to report back to God, else, he will replace my position with those i lived for. 

He switches on his tab again. I stand next to him. He feels something, look around, again resumes. He is editing something, thankfully he swaps his screen. What i saw, my eyes denied to surmise.

The screen read, 

The Untold Story - How I Met Him For Forever

Deaf Mamma

I took a deep breath, as if i have achieved moksha again being dead once and lived twice. He is the author of the book i wanted to write in my lifetime and now i don't want to check who is reading my blog. Because now he reads them, but writes being me, finally. 

Hey, God, i am coming back again - hail and hearty!


This post is written for the clue "Waking up from the dead and watching how life unfolded without you.. Is your lover remarried? Is your mother over your loss and likewise."

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