Thursday, January 28, 2010

Papa, why?

Whenever I was in a problem situation, you would say, “ho jayega”. The two words were nothing less than a confirmation that things have been managed. They say when you say your prayers, God actually listens to your problems and helps you unravel them. Saying anything to you meant the same.

Be it mental, emotional, financial, or any other apprehension…you always guaranteed relief. But now, wondering - ab sab kaise ho jayega?

As I try and go to bed every night, my mind wanders to find an answer and understand why you left me alone to fight all my problems, and at the same time, entrusted bigger responsibilities on me. Do you actually consider me that competent and think I can handle it all? Or are you, like always, testing me, waiting to give me that comforting, sarcastic smile as I fail?

Papa, how will I get my answers to those unanswered questions that you have left behind? How will I ever pass in any test, now that you are not around to help?

Why papa, Why?

Sunday, January 24, 2010

Pain: It hurts no more.

After experiencing the highest form of grief, there seems to be nothing that can hurt more. But when it comes to mom, it pinches. I doubt HIS existence now, but if God is there – he has been most unfair to her. Everytime I see her in the ICU, my heart bleeds. But there is numbness. I can’t feel no pain, no fear, because I have seen the worst already.

Thursday, January 21, 2010

Life: Some scattered pieces of glass.

And life takes a wrong turn. The road ahead is rough, but there is no other route. There are certain situations that you cannot afford to avoid. Am living through some of them.


Papa’s death has brought us on this sloppy road which seems to be leading to nowhere. But this tough journey is inevitable, and another fall is intolerable.


As I met mom on her 4th day in the ICU, she looked so docile and petite – very unlike her usual self. Her tough authoritative body language was so mild and timid. Inspite of all this, I lied.


Never had lying pinched me so much. As I blurted scripted sentences of papa’s recovery, she seemed to be getting more relaxed and positive. How will I do it to her – snatch all her positivity and enthusiasm to recover by saying those dreaded words – Papa is no more. I wish time can stand still.

Papa

When he arrived, he was lifeless. An immensely loved and respected person, he was suddenly referred to as a body.

Cruel death - just a body he became. I touched his arm, fearing if it was intact. I felt him – his arms, his hands – even as he lay dead, his hands were so comforting. I could have lived by him like that forever, drawing strength and inspiration from his lifeless body. But he had to go.

They took him away and lit his pyre, burning all the happiness that we deserved. His last rites saw hundreds – friends, relatives, doctors, and many unknown sobbing people – people he hadn’t met for long but impacted in some way or the other. I always knew it, but everyone who came, reiterated that he was a great man. Indeed he was.

Will miss you papa.