This is not a blog.
Neither is this one of my overthinking stroked canvas…
This is for everyone and this is just for you.
And this is for me. Or maybe this is Me.
Someone – Why do you keep sending these random long letters. It makes no sense. People know how you feel. Why this formality. Why overwhelm others and yourself.
Well, because to all the people for years when I could have said I missed them , asked them to come back, to not leave ever again, that I loved them, I didn’t. And now all I can write is, “ In loving memories of ____”.
Now, no matter how much I shout, how many pages I write for them, they’ll never know the truth. They won’t know how shattered I was and am without them. My words, my cries and my tears all are too far from them. But they are not my whole world, maybe they were the biggest and sweetest part but not the whole of it. There’s still a little bit of something left. Something which is me. Something which is trying to move on while holding on to the sweetness of all the memories.
As those people left one after another a big void appeared but so did this little feeling.
In the beginning it was pity. Why did this happen to me. Why did they left me. Why God takes away people I love. I mourned not the loss of people but the lose of a part of my soul. I pitied my very own existence. As if no one else would understand how miserable I was. As if no one before and after me would walk on earth feeling the way I felt.
Soon, it became guilt. Somehow everything bad was connected to my existence. Yes, my pitiful existence was the base of so much bad. Of misery and death. As if I was a tracker death followed. And took away all that I loved in some revenge. I couldn’t understand the reason for this. But, guilt seemed such an easy way. I had to think of nothing, no need to move on. At times I felt as if I was living with the same curse as Ashwatthama. ( A character from the Hindu mythology epic Mahabharata. He was cursed by Krishna that he live till the end of the time. That he will roam in the forests with blood and puss oozing out of his injuries and cry for death but death would not meet him.
But this guilt led to fear. Everything bad anyone had ever say to me seemed true. I who had become a walking museum of bad luck became growingly afraid of losing anything or anyone ever. Which also led to attachment issues, anxiety and a fear of leaving before someone else does. Or before they are affected by my bad luck. But it was too late when I realized this. The doors had been shut no new entry allowed. No escape possible for my own self. I had lived without showing emotions. But stayed shut in the dark chambers everything locked in the grasp of snakes. The snakes being fear, pity and guilt.
But one day, as the body got locked these demons set themselves free. An havoc which never left. Maybe a typhoon waiting to take me. There were cries of all I had lost. The visions of death I had witnessed. No matter where I ran all I saw, hear was an horrifying echo from a distinct past. One memory led to other. One demon to next. A ripple effect making my life worse and my self tiny. But the layers covering up grief kept increasing.
No matter how hard I tried I couldn’t raise. The harder I tried, more I got engulfed. These long dormat feelings appeared again as a strech of quick sand and in middle of it, I stood sinking. But whom could I have said all this. The people I could have, there loss was the reason to all this. And somehow the nature thought I was enjoying this uprooting of my self. Incidents and accidents kept happening. The people closest to me kept leaving. A considerable portion of my life, the most beautiful memories of mine all now lay under the ground. Some of them have been sat free in the river and they have gone into the sea.
But, in all the darkness and freezing cold. There’s an urge to still hold on. So I keep trying. Yes, sometimes a hand falling can hurt the hand it’s holding but that’s never the intention. But I don’t want to let go. So I asked the rope if I could hold onto it. I asked the hand if it could hold me. As someone living by that rope, if I won’t appreciate it who will.
The words I say, the letters I write. The tears in my eyes are not all for one. But the lost part is difficult to make up for. So to all that I love now , I include the love from the past, for others and the feelings I share with them have travelled time zones and ages. Because I have lost those whom I loved once but I have not lost the part of my soul which loves.
And as a survivor, as the one saying good byes I know it’s better to say all you want, when you want then to think and cry. Once you have missed the chance to express and share. There’s no use of sitting at the grave and stare. It doesn’t matter it’s the grave of a relation or if it’s mine or there’s .
So forgive me for overwhelming you sometimes. Forgive me for trying too hard to take some of your time. But to know how small portions of life we have. To meet the grim reaper but always to hear next time don’t fear. From moving phases of grief, to smile with eyes filled with tears. All I know is there’s nothing more valuable than the people we hold dear.
I don’t know why I wrote this, neither do I know whether I wrote this. But I do know, that if you read this, it’s you I wrote it for. Please take some time and write a letter to those who can still read it and feel you, than to mourn and write things which start with, “ In loving
memories of….”.
