They say angels exist. They are dressed in white, with wings and a halo. Not all men have the ability to identify their angel. My angel carries a red umbrella.


I see her everywhere. I see her all around me. I always see her with a red umbrella. She flutters away, and comes back with her umbrella. She lights my day, ends my night always clutching her umbrella tight. She sleeps only next to me and she kisses me to a good day. She walks with me, flies by my side, swings her arms to show her happiness and then shrugs her shoulders in shyness when I look at her and swirls around like a little tornado, with her red umbrella.

She has the most beautiful eyes. Her eyes speak to me. She never utters a word. Her eyes do the talking. They are heavily lidded and mesmerizing. Once I make a connection with them, words cease to exist. Everything including me seems more beautiful if her eyes reflect them.

She never leaves my side. She longs to hug and kiss me and hates it when I have people around me. She sits next to me at work and admires me holding that red umbrella. All that pours out from her gleaming innocent face is pure love. She blows kisses to me, kisses only I can see and feel. Her smile is alluring, contagious and as bright as her red umbrella.

She is my little wandering alarm clock. She points at the clock to remind me when it is time for my lunch. She stays by my side and enjoys watching me eat, playing with her red umbrella all the time.

I can spot my little angel in the distance with her red umbrella. The umbrella moves to her tunes. It jumps along with her when she is in joy. It shines bright when she is happy and is stays shut when she misses me. Her umbrella to me is like a reflector of her moods.



Mine isn’t the tale of two states or cities. It is the tale of two worlds. I stay in both the worlds at the same time. While one world is commercial, polluted, populated, and hectic, built with pressures, the other world- my little world with her is full of pleasures. It is a pleasure to keep watching her. To digest in her innocence and to be taken aback by her beauty is my only entertainment.

We walk together. She doesn’t walk, she doesn’t fly she does both at the same time. For what better could a medium be than silence, for love to be conveyed to the souls hopelessly lost in each other? Her silence is enticing. In my world, she holds out the red umbrella for me. She keeps inviting me to share her umbrella and hold her close. Her dreamy eyes are tantalizing. Her passionate kisses complement my desires.

My Lady with her Red Umbrella jolts me back to the other world when needed. She knows right. She knows the best. She knows what is wrong and she guides me through, effortlessly cutting across all hindrances that I face. She is the reason behind what I am today.

I am often bemused by her. My queen is my only source of strength. Without her, I often find myself adrift and disoriented. She and her Red Umbrella are the only assets I own. They are also the only ones that delight me. Her appearance alone exhilarates me.


So who am I? According to those around me, I am a lunatic. I am insane and I am often out of my mind. I belong to the long list of idiots who are lost in love. They have certified me insane years ago. I was conferred with such a title as soon I lost her to an untimely accident. Little do they know that I lost all my sanity when I first saw her.

To this ruthless world, MY Lovely wife is dead. To me she is alert, active, loving, passionate and the most stunning woman ever born. She with her Red Umbrella is the final memory of her, to the mortals here before she was killed in the accident.

These worldly beings now attach her memory to a mere “photograph”. The photograph of her with the red umbrella stays in the walls of few houses including mine. To me, her very picture beautifies the wall of my house.

My angel, my love is the reason I exist.

I, my angel, her red umbrella and our love will remain as immortal as the Good Lord himself.