Skip to main content

Here is why

What happens when you are disappointed so many times that you become resentful? How many let downs does it take before you become untouchable? When do heartbreaks cement your walls so high that no one can even see you? At what point does love seem more like a sport, a chase than a honest and real desire?

Are we born into categories? Those that laugh when it hurts and those that break down? Those that care so deeply, they forget who they are and those that barely feel anything?

Or does life lead us into the choices we make?

What do you do when you know the space between human feelings and you is like a chasm? How do you cross the emptiness of selfishness and reach a point where you actually get attached? More importantly, do you?

Comments

  1. Only life has the power to unveil it. And life has its own speed and way of doing things.

    Yes, certain experiences leave a deep impact on us and we can barely recognise ourselves in retrospect. We close ourselves while looking for a true relation which somehow keeps eluding us.

    But I truly hope and wish that when what you seek comes along you havent cemented yourself strong.

    You have the power of expression. Take care.

    ReplyDelete
  2. Thank you DMW. I sincerely hope so too :)

    ReplyDelete

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Birthing Rumi - Part 1

The next many blog posts will chronicle my most significant journey yet - of becoming and being Rumi's mama. I considered starting a separate blog but then decided against it. While there is a lot to be said, my identity as his mom is not separate from the rest of me. In being his mama, I have become more of me. And in embracing this with the rest of me, and finding and resolving the contradictions, I have felt more myself than ever before. So I chose to put this here. Where the rest of my life and memories live.   “This is pressure, not pain.” A simple mantra I kept repeating as I went through labour. My waters broke at 3.30 am as Loi (the father to be) and I binge watched Bridgerton. I was one week overdue at this point. We had tried nearly every trick in the book to get baby out. The latest was eating a spicy labour inducing burger (yep, there is such a thing), taking a bumpy ride and eating extremely spicy daal. I had been having contractions (false/real who knows?) for weeks. 

Could I have imagined you?

Every year, I think about you. Not too many times, but consistently, a few times. And each time I am not sure how I should feel. There is a vague sense of loss, a subtle tinge of abandonment, a painful realisation of independence. But mostly, there is just a numb nothingness.   Who were you? I am not even sure I remember your face. Your smile, yes. Your eyes, too. But in pieces, in context. I can't imagine your reaction in a new situation. I can't see you as you may have become. I can only see the frozen moments that I have embalmed in my head.   I wonder if you feel the need to see me. If you imagine what it may feel like to talk to me now. If you wish you had known me all this time. If I am even a real person to you. If you have convinced yourself that I don't exist.   Perhaps it isn't as simple as moving on, as erasing, as avoiding. Maybe it's an intense removal, a complete denial. I don't hate you. I don't love you. It's an absence of anything ta

Rollercoaster - Part 5

After what felt like an endless night, we woke up relaxed. And then my brain panicked. They hadn't called from the NICU since 5.45 am. Rumi was waking ever 2-3 hours on an average. So at 9.30 am that could have only meant that they didn't get the memo from the night nurses and demand feeding was again under contention.  Thankfully mom had come back to the hospital and I felt better when Lohit offered to go to the NICU to speak to the nurses and also understand if and when they would shift us to Paediatrics so we could be with Rumi in the same room. Lohit wrote to me that he had met the Paediatrician and they were open to shifting us. However they weren't sure if they would be able to find a room. By now I had begun to question my decision to not buy a breast pump and not read up enough on this topic. So when when hospital offered to get me to meet a lactation consultant, we jumped at the opportunity. She helped me understand how to pump and also got me to do it in front of