It is almost 2am before Tanny drifts off to sleep to leave me trying desperately to follow him accordingly but almost 3 hours later, with me tossing and turning, I finally realise sleep was not going to be coming a knocking at this poor fool's door.
I decide to sneak out of the room before waking Tanny and go for a wander to take in some of the fresh air before we all have to make our way back to reality later that morning.
My mouth is still somewhat acidic in taste and nostrils still stinging from the chilli as I take a deep breath as I step outside, but that does not put me off the beauty of my surroundings.
The sun has begun to rise and all the vibrant colours of the trees and flowers are in full swing as I look around. It is a fabulous contrast - the greens and reds of the trees and leaves against the azure sky line and the dusty yellow of the ground.
In the distance I can hear a cockerel crowing and as I walk over to mum, wonder to myself with a smile as to whether the cockerel, which sounds the same to me, is in fact crowing in Bengali.
"What do you think mum?" I say as I peer over the fence where mum lay; the compact brown mound of soil sheathed with dew shimmering slightly in the sunlight.
"Hah! Of all the deep and meaningful conversations to have first thing, I never dreamt I'd be chatting to you about the linguistic abilities of cockerels!" I laugh but even I can't get away from the sadness in my voice.
No matter how ridiculous a topic or mediocre a subject, I would do anything to hear mum speak to me one last time, even if just to tell me how daft I was being, wearing a very serious look on her face yet her eyes revealing clearly that she was laughing inside.
I go completely silent as I picture mum and I having numerous chats over the years most of which were heated debates to say the least, over everything and anything and am saddened that I was so much so my mother's son that we never really did say sorry to each other, "...nor did we ever say I love you enough..." I reluctantly admit to myself as my smile fades away.
I swallow hard to keep the waterworks at bay and for once am grateful that I still have that sickly acidic taste in my mouth as it reminds me of the palaver from mere moments ago and overpowers my sadness making me laugh out loud.
"If you ever thought I was embarassing before mum, you should have seen me. Hmmmm, actually, scratch that! Youd've probably disowned me for vomiting through my nose especially since out of all the things that bugged you - vomiting was your pet hate!"
I laugh a bit more before I feel my lips beginning to clench and eyes narrow as I remember how ill mum was during her treatments. Bearing in mind her hatred of being sick, it was ironic that near the last months of her deteriorating health all mum could do was vomit.
Despite all sorts of medication and foods being tried and tested on her, the combination of the cancer, her diabetes and failing livers constantly forced everything she took in out of her with an evil force to be reckoned with.
I remember how ashamed she always looked when it happened and despite being so weak, how she never wanted anyone to help her be sick and clean her up except for dad, as she did not want anyone to know what she had done.
Tears initially work their way through those blasted ducts of mine thinking about the pain and agony mum endured and the cruel nature of the world in putting mum through that but slowly my blood bubbles with anger and unexpectedly I lash out at the fence standing between mum and I.
"You always used to say Allah does things for a reason and usually whatever he does is for the greater good, mum...well, where was the good in all that?! Where...WHERE!"
I am quickly reminded to behave more sombre though as an old man appears from within the mosque on the other side of the fence and comes out to pay his respects to mum having finished his morning prayers.
Shrivelled up and beyond recognition, he is wearing a pyjama/punjabi combo and a small prayer hat on his head exposing his forehead which is practically scarred right in the centre from having bowed down to Allah far more times than a blasphemer like me would care to think about.
There is a kindness in his eyes as he looks right at me and smiles a toothless smile as he mouths prayers and raises his hands up at me as if sending those blessings to me before waving his arms over mum.
I want to tell him there is no point - Allah had taken her away so what would blessings do...but I simply can't.
Perhaps because mum would have disapproved, or maybe perhaps whether I believed or not, it was lovely that this sweet old man, who having finished his prayers, had taken the time to do what he did.
I wasn't sure who he was although he looked familiar; maybe he didn't know either of us at all but here he was, blessing me and mum and praying mum now slept in peace.
I say nothing and merely nod at him and as he nods back.
I turn to look away from him, a little ashamed that I was having such pessimistic thoughts.
"I'm sorry for being the way I am mum." I mumble as I walk away waving half heartedly over my shoulder as I do.
"She forgives you young man. She prays you find your way in life and says she was happy with hers and still continues to be so let go of your anger and embrace your everlasting love for your family! Learn to forgive, learn to live, learn to love." the old guy says.
I freeze in my tracks and shudder as those words reach in through my ears and grab hold of my heart. Coincidence? Maybe but well timed nonetheless.
I close my eyes and look down at the ground as the pit of my stomach becomes heavy and each breath deeper than the last. I rub my chest to find some strength and then lift my head up and clench my fists as I turn back to face the mysterious old guy.
"How do you know? How do you know how she feels or that she forgives me...how do...you...?" but as bizarrely as he appeared, similarly he has disappeared.
Instinctively I run back to the fence and scout around mum to see if he is anywhere there and failing to see him, I race round to the front of the Mosque but equally cannot find him anywhere.
"Okaaayyyy...well, that's just downright creepy now!" as I walk back round into the cul-de-sac, "surely he wasn't some spooky messenger from God or something?" I rationalize as I decide to go for a walk over to the pond where I had met the stray dog the day before.
As I walk over I constantly turn to look in the direction of mum and her messenger hoping to see the old guy pop up from behind a tree and say something like, "Gotcha!" and then reveal he's Tanny or my sister in disguise but nothing.
I try and shake off the feelings I am having from the words the old man said and remind myself it was merely a fluke he said those words but its pretty damn hard to do so, and his words swirl around and around my mind.
As I reach the edge of the pond, I find myself hoping that away from the mosque, surely no other ghosts or ghouls or people in general would be around to bother me as I suddenly feel the urge to start mulling over what I have been going through these last few days - but I am wrong.
In the distance near the edge of the pond I spy Princess's father with no top on and merely a towel wrapped round him to cover his decency, slumped on a bamboo-weaved chair alone.
Clearly he has not slept either as is evident from his eyes which even from the distance I am, can clearly be seen to be swollen and bloodshot.
I contemplate whether I should go over, especially since I harbour little or no respect for the guy, but considering a stranger could find the time to try and take away mine and mum's woes using one or two blessings, I was not about to ignore my uncle.
I walk up to him to say hi but the only acknowledgement he gives me is a slight wave of his head; not even a nod.
I stand next to him for a bit, watching some ducks bob around the pond and the reeds rustle intermittently as I spot the stray dog hiding in them planning to take one of the carefree birds away for breakfast, but say nothing.
Princess's father finally turns to look up at me and merely says, "I miss your mother" but then seems distracted by something happening in the ramshackled building behind me.
"What is it?" I ask but he merely turns away to watch his version of the National Geographic so I turn to look in the direction he had previously and spot Goldie and Princess's mother watching us from the roof of building; they are holding hands at first but the moment they realise what they are doing and that I am staring at them, Goldie quickly shakes off Princess' mother's hand to wave at me.
"Ohmigod! Did he just wave at me? Wave at me!!?" I blurt out shocked and angry and realising this is the reason why Princess' father was probably out here - to give his brother and his lover some space.
"Horrible. Just horrible." I say as without even thinking, I find I am giving Princess' father a hug but once again he says nothing until the stray dog jumps out from behind the reeds to savagely attack one of the ducks and after much tussling, drags it away into the reeds again as the other ducks take flight in utter horror.
"That is life - you try to do what you can peacefully but there is always someone or something that plans to destroy everything."
I find myself tighten my hold on Princess' father and great sadness come over me trying to imagine the pain and suffering he has to face every single day knowing what he does yet trying to do best by his children, the family and even the community and am silent for what feels like ages until the words fall out, "You just need to learn to forgive, learn to live and as difficult as it may be, learn to love again uncle."
Princess' father says nothing but he tilts his head slightly and smiles however faintly at me and pats my arms that are draped around him, "Your mum would be proud of the man you have become...now, off with you. It's far too early for you to be making like a philosopher - you need some rest!"
I smile back at him and detach myself from his shoulders and begin walking back to the ramshackled house. As I do, I try to see if I can spot Goldie and Princess' mother again to give them a piece of my mind but thankfully I don't and bearing in mind I had just shared with someone my lesson as taught to me by my mysterious messenger, perhaps that is a good thing!
Instead I find myself sneak back into mine and Tanny's room and grab my mobile and tiptoeing into the en suite, I surprise myself by dialling home...my wife answers.
"I've left God knows how many messages but you've not replied. I was getting so worried!" she says, her voice crackling with a little fear and quite a lot of sadness.
"Trust me - the only messages I needed to get have been received loud and clear my love," I chuckle slightly but the joke is obviously lost but I continue to the most important point,"...anyway, that's a story for another time. All I wanted to tell you was, well...I love you...with all my heart and can't wait to come home and continue to live our life together."
There is silence at first but then she starts to cry, "I love you too."
At that I breathe a sigh of a little bit of relief but more so of feeling some of that uncontrollable anger I have been harbouring lift away and very quickly we start giggling and chatting away like teenagers flirting over the phone for the first time.
"...Anyway, forget about love, let's talk puking...from the nose no less!!!..." and it isn't long until we are in utter hysterics and life finally feels like it will come back on track!
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