On Kuurchi, Sunshine And Happiness ..

Who / What is Kuurchi, you ask.

Kuurchi is a streak of sunshine that only I have. Yes, only me.

Kuurchi is someone with whom I walk every morning. Through a lush green field, with dew dropped jewels strewn all around, with the sun, yawning and peeping through the leaves of the yonder trees.

Kuurchi is a pair of doe-eyes that only I have. The moment I look at them, life picks up beat, nothing seems un-attainable. Existence becomes a touch of ecstasy.

Kuurchi is someone who drapes herself in a paaka holud ronger taater shari, with the achol tucked in the waist and the cadence of the anklets heralds her arrival. The lock of hair across her forehead swings to and fro, as she busies herself in the kitchen.

Kuurchi is someone who tunelessly hums “Amaro Porano Jaya Chaay / Tuumi Taai / Tuumi Taai”, as she fluffs up the pillows and empties my ashtray in the bin, religiously counting the buds to see if I have sneaked in a couple of more puffs in the night without her the wiser.

Kuurchi is someone who tidies up my work table and when I yell that I am not able to find the cigarette cover where I had written some stray thoughts ten days back, she calmly opens the 3rd drawer and hands it to me, with a twinkle in her eye, as if to say “This is the reason why I tidy up things for you. I make myself indispensable, so that you can’t even breathe without me.”

Each facet of Kuurchi’s being is an ensnarement, from which there is no release. But I do not wish release. I wish to stay entrapped forever.

Kuurchi is the one who points out to me on most days “You are wearing a blue sock in your right and a black one in your left. Will you please grow up ?”

Kuurchi is the peace that has been elusive to me for eons together.
And when I ask her how much she loves me, Kuurchi answers “You ask how long I’ll love you / I’ll tell you true / Until the twelfth of never / I’ll still be loving you”.

And every time I look at Kuurchi, I am filled with this strange feeling of contentment which says that had it not been “her”, I would have missed the boat. Completely.

Kuurchi is the name that I call my wife by.

PS :

My wife told me today morning “Why don’t you write something about me in your blog ? Why is it that you always speak of so dark a thought?” I was brushing my teeth and I said, amidst a mouthful of tooth-paste “Sure, I will write something about you” She puts on that I Am The Most Innocent Of All face (that I so dread) and adds “But you have to write something nice, ok ?” I swished my mouth clear of the tooth paste and told her “Look, there are 3 things that you cannot bribe in this world .. (a) Camera (b) Microphone and (c) Pen”.

I was not given my morning cup of tea. This piece assures me of my dinner tonight. What all an honest man has to do to earn a square meal a day.