Chocolates won’t ever be the same,
Maybe they would,
But that one was different.
It was sweeter,
It melted like butter,
And touched my heart
Before my tongue got a taste of it.
Had Dairy Milk changed their formula?
Or, the gamble for titration settled for perfection?
Or, was it the occasion that had embellished the stage?
Red, it was all around,
Valentine’s and Roses not to be counted there
We were in a hospital.
That stranger who gifted it to me,
Might have the hand in this case.
(It tends to taste better when it is not you who bought it)
But how?
I only met him half an hour ago.
And maybe we won’t cross paths ever again
Stakes were too high for that
Yet he upgraded the best thing for me in super- superlative degree.
Mother has always said “Don’t take things from a stranger”
But, she never said anything about donating!
So, I donated
my blood
To a child whose father stood in front of me,
With that chocolate
And tears in his eyes,
a smile on his face.
“Words are not enough”
He said and gave that chocolate to me
that he bought for his own child.
That chocolate was special,
Indeed it was.
Because of the history it carried
Of accident,
Of vulnerability,
Of compassion,
Of Resurrection,
Of overwhelming emotions,
Of the new formed bond.
Chocolates won’t ever be the same,
Maybe they would,
But that one was different.
It was sweeter,
It melted like butter,
And touched my heart
Before, my tongue got a taste of it.
– RIYA BHALLA