Rebuild

I have always admired the courage to break away from something crappy and starting anew, from scratch. As simple as it sounds- it does take a lot to tear away from something you have grown used to, something you have known as an important part of your life- and build a new one, with your own two hands, your heart and your brain.

In my own small way, I have done it with my own life- giant leaps and baby steps towards the sun; it’s still not over- I’m still walking, running and crawling towards the sun. I wish someday I’ll reach it, too. I have some wonderful friends who did it, too. For some of them it took more than it took me, because I also had a wonderful companion beside me- the crazy man who has been tolerating my whims for a long time now. As independent as I am as a person, in this journey of life- I was never truly alone. This post, though, is not about me.

This post is about my friend ‘Bea’ (that’s my name for her for this blog); who took the first epic step towards freeing herself from the old skin and grow a new one. That first step, my friends, is always the hardest and I’d say that the worst is now over. Now it’s time to pick up the dagger and dig through, to work her way through until the sun breaks- taking breaks for drinks occasionally or a few laughs- because it does not have to be all work and boring, all it matters now is not losing the sight of the sun.

There’s no looking back now. I think it’s wonderful.

The Face

I realize I remembered it all when I saw her email today; a face from the childhood has somehow found me. I replied back and then came her reply… back and forth and back….

Things kept coming back like flashes of lightning, things I did not think I remembered… light blue school uniforms, two tight plaits, white socks, laughter, the angry Dhaka sun, bully kids, school buses full of kids singing chirping and shouting, noisy traffic, paan chewing bus drivers, feriwalas…. and amidst that all that busy-ness somewhere…. the face.

A face that remembers me from 19 years back; a face who was a good friend that saved me from bullies a number of times; and then one day- all of a sudden- she stopped being a friend- just like that, I never knew why. I don’t know how she found me again, but it was important for her to do so… and apologise to me for something she did when she was… what… 10 years old?

I had almost forgotten her, I do remember she was mostly a good friend; but the fact that she cared enough to find me to make peace after all these years- meant something to me.

As Crazy said when I told him, it does sound like an episode from ‘My Name is Earl’… it feels weird; but good too.

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A clean canvas

There are times when I wish I could ‘refresh’ my brain; start with a clean canvas and, on there, paint you in sunlight with red, blue, orange and yellow strokes.

Your likeness with the drawings I currently have on my canvas are perhaps ‘just in my head’- dark brown, grey and black- tentacle-y monstrous figure with unforgiving eyes, mocking smiles and arched claws; creature of the semi-dark with long thin shadows taller than you are.

I wish I could ‘start over’ and introduce myself to you, carrying no baggage from the past and mean it when I said-

‘Hello, this is Em. Nice to meet you, too!’

And then, take out my paintbrush and, paint you in your true colour and judge, without any bias, if you truly are the monster I made you out to be…. or are you just as misunderstood and lonely as the girl I have learnt to live with for decades now.

missed opportunities

I was very close to my grandmother all my life. She was like my mother in so many ways- a place where I could go back to, an assurance of acceptance and so much more- she was more than a mum actually, to me at least. She was my favourite person in the whole world.

She passed away two years back. I was in Australia then and she was in Bangladesh. I was so poor then that I would not have been able to even fly there for her funeral- even if I wanted to. In all honesty, without her there- Dhaka did not quite feel like home anymore. I was not ready to face a Dhaka without her. And if you talk about being there for the bereft- as far as I was concerned- it was me who was bereft. I don’t do well in social sorroundings; so I stayed where I was- drowning in my own mysery and poverty. I get very selfish every once in a while, I know.

As a child, I remember my idle evenings with Dida (that’s what I addressed her as). We used to chat idly- about things that happened- she while marking students’ copies (she was a lecturer of English Lit), me while doing my homework. She’d sometimes make those amazing pickle-mixed chanachur toss-ups that we’d both munch on. If I could turn back time- this is where I’d like to go back to. This is how I remember her the most. And those little moments are what I miss from my past.

In one of those evenings, she was talking about my grandfather. I remember her saying that my grandfather often feared that if Dida died before him- no one will ask after him, as Dida always had been the obvious favourite. I remember we laughed at this comment because it seemed absurd. I did not even remember this comment before this morning.

It’s been 2 years since Dida’s passing. I did not call my grandfather even once in these two years. We spoke when my aunt called me and he was around. But I never called him specially. He never called me either. I am ashamed to admit it, but may be he was not so wrong after all?

And today, as my mum wrote, he had a heart attack. I’ll call him tonight- when it is not middle of the night in Atlanta. I hope I am not too late.

detached. really?

There are times taking a break from everything around you- helps. I know some would say that I am ALWAYS in that kind of break, but forget me… why don’t you try it to see for yourself?

Makes me wonder if my (in)famous reclusiveness is because I do not want to get ‘involved’ or is it because I do not want to hurt… It can be either, actually. Detachment can come as a blessing sometimes- actually most of the times. But that may be just me. You, obviously, do not have to agree.

Words complicate things more often than not. Silence makes you forget faster. Wrong words linger in the air for years and years to come- and for a person like me, who finds it hard to ‘let go’- it just adds to the burden. I sometimes look back and wonder at the doors I have closed- never to open again; the bridges I have burnt. Was it worth it? Why do I carry so much burden?

Is it really detachment or am I actually just so ‘involved’ that I NEED to detach myself to be able to ‘go on’ in this world?

Hmm…

the only thing i learnt to do is keep on keeping on…

i was contemplating about whether or not i should bring my past 5 years journal entries to here from livejournal. after much consideration- i decided i won’t. not because i feel i cannot be bothered, i can be, very much- i am just CHOOSING not to.

one of my more serious follies is that i carry a lot of emotional burdens with me: things i sometimes may choose not to express, but that does not stop me from carrying them with me anyway. i hold a lot of grudges, hardly make any new friends, am reluctant to assist people to get to know me better. a side of me needs to be frequently reminded that most other people are not important enough to cause me the amount of grief (or in some cases- even the ‘reaction’) that they do. and the distance i keep with the world is precisely what makes me lonely. i know some people find it hard to believe- but i honestly sort of like the solitude. what i don’t like though, is being misunderstood… however the combination of lonely and misunderstood- definitely DOES NOT lead to something good

i am trying to unlearn a few things and also learn a few. i do not plan to change myself really, but i plan on working on the art of ‘letting go’, to believe in my heart that it’s not always MY fault and the loss of ‘what could have been’ is as much for the other side as it is to me, and there may be times when i am the one who realized it more (or earlier) for a particular event.

and my FIRST baby-step?

i am letting my old journal entries stay where they are now. i may go, visit and have a read there from time to time- but this is my initiative of starting fresh. i know i need it.