A Bed of Prose and Poetry!

Life is like a yin-yang – full of good and evil, sorrow and joy. Like everything else, I also have a right and wrong side. That’s what a recent study says; those who get out of my left side are in a better mood than those who choose the right side. But, for me, both are ‘quite right’. Phew, humans and their weird deductions!

If you still haven’t figured, let me introduce myself. I have been in the Ghosh household for more than three decades now. I stay in their master bedroom and I AM THE BED. I have seen the family for ages, and trust me, living or non-living, we all have similar emotions.

My durability depends on how tough I am, and how much I can withstand (no pun intended). Similarly, a human life depends on how well they can take control of their emotions and face the challenges of life. So, let me tell you OUR story.

Years ago, Subodh Ghosh got me as a dowry in his marriage to Lila Ghosh. I was so beautifully decorated with flowers for the night. I still remember, Lila sitting on me as a bride, shy and scared, when Subodh entered the room, equally shy. All they did was speak a few words. Every night, Lila would nicely do me up, probably expected something. On one night of drizzles and passion, they consummated their marriage on me. It was a beautiful moment for all of us –simple yet pure.

Subodh was a government official and a writer at heart. On weekends, he would pen down his novel sitting on me, with scattered papers all over. On lazy afternoons, he would read his poems to Lila and she totally loved them. I remember, he hid his first love letter to Lila under her pillow. Then, one day, when he was writing something, a phone call came and Subodh tore every page to pieces. They did not publish his novel. Heartbroken, he buried his head and cried. Shh, nobody knows. Lila found a small piece stuck inside me and kept it safely under the mattress. It still lies there. Lila would tuck in money she saved from household expenses to buy a gift for Subobh on their first anniversary.

Years later, I saw a new member. A chubby little boy, Subho, their son. He slept on me, peed on me, vomited on me, but still I loved to hug him. I loved when Lila sang to him every night, read bedtime stories. I cherish the memories, they spent on me. As Subho grew up, he became a naughty lad. He jumped on me; Lila told him to stop as I might break, but I was still strong. 😉

Years later, on Subho’s wedding night, a new bride, Tani sat on me, timid and shy. But, this night was different. Thus, started one more emotional jamboree of two lives. It turned sour on a shameful and painful night, when Subho destroyed her dignity on me, in an inebriated state. I remember how she cried several nights after that. But, life gives it back to everybody. Subho met with an accident and lay on me for months together. It was like his repentance. I could feel his warm tears on me, when he was alone. This phase also passed away and so did many more eventful days of their lives.

I am very old now. Subho wants to discard me and get a new one, before his son comes from the hospital. I will miss them. I cannot shed tears, but my emotions are real. Life may be or may not be a bed of roses, but I will always be the ‘bed of emotions’ for the Ghosh family.

I am a bed,

Where you lie and are get laid,

I know your pains and your pleasure,

I am with you when you work or at leisure.

I know your dreams and your nightmares,

I am with you in your smiles and in your tears.

I will wipe your tears and hide your smiles,

Let all your worries vanish and you become stress-free,

When I hug you every night in a sweet sleep on me.

This post was written for a contest (#ATypicalWomaWrites) by SiyaWoman



Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s