An ode to my best friend

The first day I set my eyes on you, I was in love. Your dark body, sleek and shiny. Every curve was perfect. The deep black, with the right twinkle in the lens. Sibling and me had spend months just googling you. Lensman-of-Kashmir had also recommended you. My dear Cannon 30-D, I had waited for days, for months. Imagine the joy when you arrived. Packed in a brown box, with loads of paper to read. Who read the instructions. The eyes were all for you. $1,481 and every green was worth it. You were to be my best friend for the days ahead.
You froze with me at the Rohtang Pass, blinked at the yaks there. We drove to Ladakh, through the barren landscape. You saw all with the open wide lens. The happy Ladakhi kids with your portrait eyes.
We went all the way upto Siachen. And when I climbed the ice-wall, you tugged tightly alongside. We both devoured the warm sun after the cold winds swept our faces. We flew overseas. You captured squirrels, sea-gulls, our laughters, the drunken parties… the walks by the beach, the mystery of Stonehenge.
So much beauty, and you. But they say, it just takes a moment to ruin it all. The moment had arrived. The National Express Bus Service was always on time, and I was always late. A hasty jump into the bus, was out of breath, drank some water and placed you by my side. That’s when it happened. Deadly water entered your system like some strong venom. Within minutes, you were quiet. Dead, as if you had completely given up on life. Afreen-the-dazzler tried the first aid. Sun, wind, tissue-paper to clean up. We were on our way to Cambridge, and but the world had already stopped. The shopkeeper at Cambridge took you in his hands, and shook his head. Maha-the-magician said a silent prayer. I could have burst into tears, but guess, you had had enough water for the day.
The next few days passed off in numbness... like a limb had been cut off. Like a bird, with its feathers clipped harshly. Like a wintry evening with no warmth.
In Ireland, Seamus-the-showman brought someone who looked like you. The same deep black, but there was no twinkle. The filters had buried it somewhere deep. It didn’t have your soul either. Everywhere I went, I felt like an incomplete song. You had left me wordless, expressionless. My dear friend, somehow on my travels, you were the one who made me complete.