So Ma passed away on the 18th of March and due to the Janta curfew, the chautha was preponed by a day. After the 21st, I wanted to leave and go anywhere, where one could grieve in peace. But unfortunately, the flights were shut down by the 25th. I knew I couldn’t be held, nothing and no one would have made me feel better in any case. But the environment at home was driving me up the wall. It seemed like too much of a celebration and I had just lost my family.
God, does have a wicked sense of humour. If he wants to teach you something, somehow, he will ensure that you learn it. That’s the reason, I will have to resolve my father issues, at some point or the other in life. Now, is not the time, ghaayal sherni aur khukaar hoti he.
I’m convinced that the only reason my mum survived after her Burr hole surgery, was because I owed her, something. I was supposed to do some stuff for her and I hope I did, all of it, like I was supposed to. It may sound all superstitious and nonsensical to an atheist but my brother’s death and my trip through the country, have converted me into a fatalist. It may also be because, on one of her visits to the hospital, in a daze, she yelled out to her dead son, ‘ Dustu, I’m not coming, now!’.
She went without a fight, a woman who had ten times more fight than I will ever have. Many got fooled by her cuteness, she was fierce and she taught her daughter, to not play second fiddle to any man. Hence, my question remains, ‘tumhe pata he Meri Ma kaun he?’ If there’s a shred of any good quality, in me, I probably picked it up from her- My Amma, Chottu, Pinky, Ma, Mummy, Ammi!
So, as we are on the verge of Lockdown 3, I wonder, how I will survive a couple more weeks of this environment? I popped an Alprax to calm my fraught nerves, last night. But nothing, is helping, this sheer feeling of despair and an intense loneliness, that even a loner like me can’t handle. SB tries to keep SC down but every few days, she pops up and asks, ‘how are we going to survive this, in one piece?’ ‘ God knows!’ , replies a tired SB.
A 100 pieces of me-project 