‘Dear lord I thank you for all the things you have given us. Bless our mummy, daddy, brother, sister, niece, nephews, family, friends, and all our dear and near ones. Amen.’

This is one of the first prayers taught to me by my mom. We were staying out of the state because of my parent's work. There was a church that held its mass in our native language. We used to visit it every Sunday diligently. At that age sitting inside it silently and still was a huge task. The hour would stretch out endlessly in front of me. The only thing that kept me going was the prospect of playing with a couple of friends after it finishes. Our parents would gather together and take a good amount of time to talk and catch up on the latest happenings. After that, we would proceed to have lunch at a fancy restaurant. The time in between was used to play catch or police and thief in the sprawling lawns of the church. It had a lot of space covered with grass and a couple of huge trees. For this one reason, I didn’t mind going to church. And the lunch.

Since I didn’t know how to read or write my native language, I was taught this prayer along with the Lord's prayer. The Lord's prayer took some time to memorize. But this one was easier. I learned it in no time. From its inception, it has had only a couple of changes.

When it was taught, it was singular and personal. ‘Us’ was ‘me’. There was no mention of a brother back then. Later when my brother was born, he was included in the prayer. My mother made me do that. I was accustomed to reciting the prayer at full speed before I slept. It took me some time to get used to the addition in it. Soon it became a part of the prayer.

The next change happened after my union with Anna. When I prayed with her in our bed for the first time, I realized it was very much singular. I stopped short, went back to the beginning, removed the singular terms, and made it plural. I also extended the tail end of the prayer to include her sister, niece, nephew, and the rest because her brother and his family and her sister had become a part of my life now. I am grateful for the family and friends I have with me. They made their presence felt during the wedding and the events leading to it.

For now, the prayer is complete. It will change whenever it has to. That's how prayers should be, dynamic and accommodating. After we sit and pray before we go to bed, she tells me to recite this prayer. I do it followed by saying grace to whatever we have and for blessing us with this wonderful life.

What was once my prayer is now our prayer. It feels more beautiful. It is the one prayer that I always chant regardless of the situation because in it I am just being thankful for whatever it is that I have, whether it is good or bad. The prayer harbors no distinction between the two. Both are part of our lives and we are being grateful for giving us the opportunity to experience both of them and everything else. We are being thankful for this life. This prayer gives me the strength to go forward in hard times. It lifts me and helps me gather the courage I need to wade through deep waters. That is why I recited this prayer right now. I need strength to carry on and it surely does provide me with some.

I get up from the sofa and walk towards the dining table. I switch on the tube light. In an instant the darkness that clouded me disappeared. It has brought a stark contrast to the mood. I look at the clock. It is going to be seven. I remove my tee and pants and throw them onto the sofa. Much better. This is how I am at home, in my boxers. It minimizes the heat and doesn’t give me the sticky feeling I get when I have a shirt or a tee on. I start to sweat quite easily.

I can hear the slow hum of the inverter. I open the door to the cabinet under the washbasin where it is kept. The inverter mode is on. It doesn’t show how much battery is left. I have to be judicious in my power usage.

I walk into the kitchen, switch on the lights, and open the fridge. It is dark inside. It doesn’t get the backup power. I take out the packet of milk from it. I am going to make myself a cup of tea. Also, there is no point in keeping the milk in the fridge. It will go stale by tomorrow morning.

I take the vessel from the rack, pour a cup of milk into it, and keep it on the stove. Before I light it, my eyes fall on the small filter coffee tumbler sitting next to the jar of sugar. It reminds me of her. She is the filter coffee person in this house. I make it for her. Whenever I am home, she wants to have my coffee. There is nothing special in it. It is just that while we were finding out what beverages we like after moving in together, we found out we both liked filter coffee. From that day, it is our preferred form of coffee. I make it in the evening as the morning routine can become a bit hectic. Also one needs to enjoy it at their own leisurely pace. Evenings are the best time.

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I dismiss the thought of making one for myself. I only make one for both of us. We share from it. The whole experience of drinking coffee is to enjoy its strong and bold flavor by sharing the cup back and forth. For this reason alone, I know that I will not enjoy it now. I light the stove and decide to stick with tea.

When it comes to making something I like to stick to the recipe. I am a textbook cook of sorts. She is very much the opposite of it. She doesn’t go by the recipes. She goes by the feeling she gets when she looks at it. If it seems less spicy she adds more condiments by hand. She doesn’t go by the spoons. Even while making tea I stick to the recipe that I have used to make it for a long time. It is simple: take milk and water in equal proportions. Bring it to a boil. Just before the milk starts boiling add the tea leaves. I prefer to use the bigger one. The small CTC dust tea is required only in small quantities and need not be brewed for long. I don't like its taste. I like the bigger one. I let it brew for a while. The longer I brew it the stronger it gets. But one shouldn’t overdo it. A slight bitterness can seep in. Also, one should put nearly double the amount of what you usually add to the dust tea. Sugar comes last, according to your preference. I tend to keep it on the lower side.

I follow the same procedure to make my cup of tea. I strain out the leaves and add a little bit of sugar. I stir it and use a steel mug to beat it and make it frothy. I taste it. It feels good. She would have wanted a bit more sweetness to it cause it is strong. I like my tea strong. Tea should taste like tea, not like milk. I take the cup and walk out of the kitchen. Instead of going to the dining table, I walk into our room towards the balcony. I open the door and step out into the open.

This is a ritual we do from time to time. Way past our tea time, she would have this urge to drink coffee. I would make it and we would come to the balcony to savor it. We don't light it up. We stay in the darkness that surrounds us. It is ever so slight owing to all the lights in the vicinity. We have a good conversation standing here as the coffee finishes. Mostly it would be an emotional one - a conversation about our future and how things would fit in, on the things that have disturbed us recently - ending in embracing each other and being thankful for all that we have, for the time we have together.

I was hesitant to come here when I got out of the kitchen. But then I didn’t want to sit inside. I was already feeling her loss sorely. I knew I would feel it more here but the open air would soothe me a bit. It does.

I am standing in darkness. There are no street lights around our vicinity. All the houses are dark. Only a couple of them has their outdoor light lit up. One could see the tall buildings of the medical college from here. And the buildings near the Akkulam area. These are the buildings that light up our horizon. They are soaked in darkness.

The sky is dark. It must be a new moon. The bluish tinge of the moon is absent in the surroundings. It seemed as if a big black blanket had covered the city. As expected, I can see quite a lot of stars in the sky. They are relishing the absence of all the light pollution that had rendered them invisible. They thrive in the darkness, their old friend.

I wanted to take her to a hill station or a place devoid of this light pollution and show her all the stars and the Milky Way. I had witnessed it multiple times and have been mesmerized by it. It makes me realize how small we are in the grand cosmic scheme. It piqued my interest in the night sky and its photography. I wanted her to have a first-hand experience of it. She had seen some of the photos I had clicked. But they hardly do any justice to the experience of seeing them through your naked eyes. She was up for it. I decided to take her to the mountains after she was done with her course.

This is why I feel she would have appreciated this darkness. She would have loved to stare at the stars and listen to all that they had to tell. We might have even taken to the rooftop to have a wider perspective of it. Maybe take our carpet and comforter, lay it out on the floor, and lie down on it as we gaze up into the sky. Stargazing at its comfiest version.

I want to show her the satellites. The ones that zip past the sky at a constant speed without any twinkling or a tail. Polar satellites. At my worksite after taking a walk in the evening, I sit down with a colleague of mine and stare out into the sky. We follow these satellites for a while and leave when we had our full. On clear nights, we have seen three of them in the sky simultaneously. It is a fascinating site. When I saw it first, I thought it was a shooting star. My colleague had some knowledge about it. He explained to me what it was and how it differed from the shooting stars. He also gave me a detailed explanation of what an asteroid, meteorite, and its other varieties were. I don't remember it.

I am staring at a portion of the sky when I see a satellite travel from one end of the night sky to the other. I follow it for a while and finish my tea. It is time to go back in.

I walk into the bedroom and close the door. The cloth stand is filled with her churidars and tops. She looks beautiful in all of them. She had worn the patterned chic top for the anniversary dinner. It was a beautiful night. It was two nights ago. I wish time froze that night or it proceeded at a snail's pace. I wish I knew what was in store for me. I would have tried stretching it for as long as possible. I wish I had done a lot more things with her. I thought I had time.