Over the last few months I have written about issues which are close to my heart … issues which affect me as a person who is bothered about her courtyard as much as she is troubled by what goes on in her backyard. However, till now, I have never written about anything which has happened with me … Every single piece of my writing has drawn its inspiration from what my friends, colleagues, relatives, parents etc. have gone through in their lives … I am yet to write about myself …
Today, I was sipping depression along with black coffee … It is not unusual for me to get pensive … I am someone who has a tendency of taking a trip down the memory lane and I often find myself choosing the lane which is toughest to tread … This time it was one of the lanes in the 5th year of my life … 1988 changed me for I witnessed death for the very first time.
I was a hyper active kid who was always full of questions … 1988 made me quiet both literally and figuratively. It gave me my first scar … A scar which has not healed even after 28 years. The person closest to me had slipped out my world … My grandfather was my world. I still have vivid memories of (both) us spending some of the most glorious moments of my life … My happiest ever!! But then one fine afternoon when your cousin whom you seldom see comes to collect you from the bus stop to take you home and on your way back home, breaks the news that “Daddy” (I used to call my grandfather “Daddy”) is no more, you dont really understand what it means. No more? I didnt know back then what “no more” meant … I still dont know and I hope I never know what it means. Daddy is no more with us because were we shifting into our new house or was he getting posted to another city or was I being sent to a hostel … WHAT DOES NO MORE MEAN???
I was confused on my way back home. There were questions in my head and I could not bring myself to articulate them … I suddenly felt sick and I had an urge to throw up. Mental confusion combined with physical sickness can be quite a cocktail. After 20 minutes of torture, my wait finally ended … My parents told me that my daddy is dead and that God has taken him away from us. I clearly remember what I felt 28 years ago … I can still feel it because nothing has really changed since then … At first I felt dizzy … It was as if the world around me had started dancing to some really fast metallic number and despite the blaring music around me, it did not reach me … Along with feeling dizzy, my knees started hurting and they have not stopped hurting ever since … Till today they are sore. I could not breathe for a couple of minutes … It was similar to the feeling I had when my mom tried to gulp bitter gourd down my throat. It was the kind of gagging where one has to swallow something bitter … I guess, unknowingly I was swallowing that event. Concurrently, I was experiencing hatred … It takes a lot for me to hate. Hatred is an extremely consuming and corrosive emotion but at 5 I could feel it … Deep hatred and dense anger directed at God. I felt wronged and I had never imagined in my worst nightmares that God could hurt me … I was a good kid who brushed her teeth, wore her slippers and prayed to God every damn day. In my head, I could not understand why God decided to snatch away from me the most precious person I owned …Yes … I owned my grandfather and I still own him. No one can stake a claim greater than mine in his love. I was so sure God had made some mistake and that there had to be a way to rectify it. It seemed like subtraction going wrong … I was always weaker at subtraction as compared to addition.
I wanted to cry but I did not cry. I still havent cried. I dont think I ever will. Crying is cathartic … It releases the pent-up misery and makes space for new emotions to take birth. However, I dont wish to do away with my misery … The misery I felt seeing him wrapped in a white cloth is the last physical memory I have of him … Releasing that misery will mean letting go off his last sight.
It was his loss which triggered a sense of insecurity in me … I am an extremely insecure person and I perpetually reel under the fear of losing my family, my friends, my pet, my health, my youth, my language, my mental stability etc. etc. etc. etc. … The list does not end! I am scared to death of death … And that is the biggest issue of my life. I cant deal with bereavement … I cant deal with people leaving me. I am so scared of losing people that besides 3-4 friends I have not invested myself emotionally into anyone beyond my family. I am aggressive and have major rage issues … I am essentially temperamental but even the thought of discord unsettles me. So long as fights are all about clothes and chocolates and weight and shopping and crushes and such other insipid matters, I enjoy them … Escalate them and I become a fish out of water. All my idiosyncracies stem from my emotionally fragile state. I am an overprotective, obsessive, overbearingly paranoid person who cannot deal with her people being harmed or getting hurt.
With time my insecurity has increased and when I see my parents, my maternal grandparents and my maternal aunt aging I get scared … I want the time to freeze.
In my sister’s opinion death is the only truth of life and hence one must not be scared of death. To be scared of death is to be scared of new beginnings. But, I am an old scared woman who wants to cling on to her loved ones and never let them go. I am perfectly alright living in denial and it is not necessary to face the only apparent alleged truth of life …
I want my loved ones near me … Always & Forever More …
Heres Sugarsatchet wishing you all love and greater proximity with those you love!!
PS: Daddy I miss you … For me you shall remain the only Daddy I ever had!! Rest In Peace.