the last moments

I’ve always imagined that I would spend the last years of my life somewhere in Punjab. My life would have fallen out of the movie Veer-Zaara. The town would be made, the schools erected, the people happy. Someone would always be singing a song and there would be lassi with every meal. Sometimes I think it would be a beautiful feeling to be old. To watch the sun rise from your balcony, let it hit your arms, your face, not worry about it changing your color or giving you lines. Not worry about whether or not someone will love you if you change. Not worry about changing anything in the world. Not wonder if you are useful or if your body is just an empty vase, taking up space, not giving life to anything. That would all be done, the world would be saved. You could look over the balcony and remember all the times you have laughed, knowing they were the only important times. Everything would be completed, all sins forgiven, no relationships with fraying ends. You would have a complete book of memories, and no fear that there haven’t been enough. For once you would have time to let the sun fall on you, to feel the rain as if it had found you and no one else. And who knows, maybe when you look over your shoulder, from the balcony, you would find someone sleeping on the bed, holding your heart so carefully in his outstretched hand.