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Dewdrops

I woke up to a bad news today- don’t you just hate it when that happens?

Someone died, someone our age- of a mysterious illness, undiagnosed. I thought we were still quite young to die of diseases? Also- wait a minute, wasn’t she a physician? Doctors do make the worst kind of patients, don’t they?

I never got to meet her. There was once a chance that I will. She was dating a friend of mine then; a friend, yes. I never had many; he is one of those few. Then- their life separated and that chance that we’ll ever meet disappeared.

And we never met.

I woke up to an email this morning, from the friend- giving me this terrible news. I had to read it 3 times to get a grasp of the situation, somewhat: Okay, so she’s now…. dead? Shit!

He sounded sad; that made me very sad too. I am at a loss of words- to offer as a token of how sorry I am for his loss. I know he once loved her enough to have spent 6 years of his life with her, maybe he still does.

Whatever it may be, I know one thing- now he always will.

We have this uncanny ability of forgiving the follies of those who leave us behind forever. I am yet to see an exception to this rule.

Daffodil

Another day of mourning a death.

Someone I knew passed away, breast cancer relapse.

I did not know her well though, but saw her every day: polite smiles and nods at the work lunchroom. The usual stuff people do.

Not again.

Yea.. it is just like any other day- millions die every day, millions are born too. We get used to births and deaths of strangers- unannounced to us.

I know. It’s normal and practical to be immune. Rules of life. And life never stops.

It only makes some sort of difference if you knew the person who just died.

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.

this is me…. up, close and personal.

In all honesty- I have never longed to be perfect. This is me with my imperfections and I am learning to accept myself and take myself as I am- because THAT, my friend, is the first step. If I am at peace with myself, I will be at ease with the whole world- may be; at least that’s the idea. As I said, I’m still learning- and I will probably keep on doing so for as long as I live.

I want to die before everyone I love does. I faced grief once and I never want to again. It probably makes me a coward- but I am what I am; be it cowardly or impractical. I’m okay with it.

I am not a nice person when I’m upset- actually I’m not a nice person overall. I am much too reclusive to be considered ‘nice’, I guess. I know it and I don’t sweat over it.. Most of the time, people have no clue about what’s going on with me, my heart and my surroundings- and I prefer it this way. That, probably, is the reason why I NEED to remain anonymous if I am exposing parts of me to the vast world of internet. If you know me in flesh and bone and you know of this site from me, you can make yourself believe that you are trusted by me beyond words. It won’t be an illusion.

I am opinionated, but I also value others’ opinions- or rather the ‘right’ of any human being of ‘having’ an opinion; yes- EVEN when I don’t go by their opinions. I guess its part of the fact that I am ‘aloof’, which can be a good thing or bad- depending on circumstances. But, it makes me accommodative and considerate. And I think it is mostly a good trait.

I am hardly ever argumentative. I don’t believe I need to change or fix anyone’s opinion. If you own an opinion that’s different than mine, I’ll respect it without ever trying to change it. I’ll expect you to do the same. I love it that each person on this earth is different- I find comfort in the differences- it makes me feel my own soul. I cannot explain or I probably can, but not here- may be some other time and some other entry.

I do have friends, much less than most- may be- and I lose them too; but those I consider as my friends- are worthy of the love I give them- in my silent way perhaps- but I’d like to think that ‘the way’ does not matter when you love. Love is way too valuable for that.

I, being the odd person that I am, have always been ill at ease with my family. I cannot say I am close to them, even though I care for them. I never honestly told them how I was feeling in any particular time- not because I don’t trust them (because I do most of the times), but because I feel this glass wall around me when I am with them- much like what I feel around most people. I have been the rubric’s puzzle for many in my life- including my family, but they have learnt to take me for me now- I’d say. I am grateful to the Pacific Ocean for the distance it puts between me and my family though (we live in two different countries). This way- you focus only on the good parts and can ignore the rest… This way you focus on the ‘love’…

I re-read the post just now. It makes me sound like those creepy reclusive serial killers, but then- even if I do have all the traits of a psychopath (I probably do)- I CHOOSE not to be one. We are, after all, hugely made up of the choices we make- isn’t that why Harry Potter was a Gryffindor and NOT a Slytherin?