Guru Uncle

In the mausoleum of my mind lives
your camaraderie with crosswords.
In a bout of boyish zeal,
I bought you a book,
It still lies in my library.
Demeanor apart, part of the problem
was with your voice. Gruff. Rough.
Rather scary for a schoolboy.

Once, I collected my courage
and wished," Good night, uncle."
"What's so good about the night?"
You hollered.
Perhaps it was your idea of fun,
but a six-year-old isn't equipped
to understand the intricacy
of such humor.

Guru uncle, when you were alive,
I had no feelings for you.
Yet, your death has affected me,
like no one else I have known.


*Mother's sister's husband. A retired officer of the Indian Navy.
He lived alone in a South Delhi bungalow.
Guru uncle was murdered one morning.
The month isn't essential, nor is the year.
Each morning, somewhere in the world,
someone's Guru uncle gets murdered.