Time passes like it does and before you start to think that just because I don’t pass by the cremation ground, everyday, I’m beginning to forget you…it ain’t so. You’re in my blood, up in the sky, even in the mirror…sometimes. But I can’t pass by that place, everyday now, it gets to me. For sometime, I need a break from death.
I was told recently, by someone who practices reflexology that my body still carries the trauma of loosing you. Who can really tell, what kind of trauma we all carry? But one does, curse you everyday, asshole! Since the cuteness quotient in this house has been reduced to zilch, after mum, it’s quite the haunted house, now. Ironic, you were the muh mangi dua and one was the ansuni faryaad…the one that can’t be his…I’m still told every few days and you’re gone and one is still here. Well, we all need our villains, I’m making you mine. Okay?
Your childhood friend Rohan came over with his mum, to meet us. Unfortunately, neither of us were home. Very considerate of him, the last time Dad met him was at your cremation. Goodwill, they say carries beyond death. Sometimes, it makes sad, though. You were wonderful, God knows only our mum and Jimin could compete with your cuteness but our mom was even warmer. It’s heartbreaking when women aren’t spared, even when they’re gone.
Our really sweet relatives, were here from Hyderabad and very patiently, Uncle was trying to give me some life lessons about running the unit, about marriage and how I’m not thinking about my future. He was so concerned and sweet, I was really touched. Not once did he mention, quitting the business or going away, in fact he kept saying, ‘you can bring someone well educated, home!’. I liked him so much, that Dad kept telling me, ‘you’re doing naatak infront of him!’ Well, he never did figure out about our mum and I, that we reciprocated and multiplied whatever we were given.
It’s sweet, all of them think, there’s some Kashmiri boy I’m going to marry and probably I need a nudge in that direction. That’s hilarious. Wild horses, will have to drag me down that path. As for Kashmiri boys, they’re cute and most of them display spine but other than the one who got tattooed on my body, a long, long time ago…I doubt anyone else is making a way into my heart. I’m told about time, I let the past go, with all its losses before it renders me useless. You, mum, him and of course the one I clung to for dear life, just a little so that I can see what is in front of me. Well, in front of me, there are are men who look at me and see your father’s stuff. So invariably directorship, job, moving into this house, are spun in nicely into the conversation, when I meet someone, new. I ain’t falling for that, what do I do? Some of them are funny, though. I went on a trip, recently and as usual I spent more time around the men. So, one night I’m weeping in bed and outside I hear one guy tell another, ‘ I was so good, I was talking to her…I even played with a dog and gave him biscuits but I got nothing!’ I know I should be offended but I thought it was hilarious. I missed you so much that night because only you and I could be amused by this honest declaration.
So, the future doesn’t look very promising but it is what is. There’s too much to take care of right now to worry about love. In any case, between the unrequited and the familial one, all corners, someone complained seem to be occupied. Will make some space I’ve promised myself. Let’s see, if I manage to.