Loss

There is no greater loss than the loss of a parent. That is one quarter of life from which we know we will never be disappointed; that love will be showered unconditionally.

It seems impossible to cope with such loss and this is exactly the reason why we stop listening to the advise of people as soon as they start saying, "Everything is going to be ok!" These words appear true only when your parents say so; for it is only they who can possibly mend the pigeonholes of our anxities.

I would be wrong if I say that the words of wisdom which our near ones impart are false-they are true in their own way. Things do eventually seem to be O.K not because the gap is mended or fulfilled but because where life is a tormentor, time is a great healer and we are but petty fools. On finding ourselves in siuations which we cannot escape, we as humans, tend to seek relief. Most often, the best way is by cherishing the memory of those we have lost by adhering to what they had taught us all their lifes and also by loving and caring for those whom they loved and cared for. So, in a way things do get better, or atleast it they become less cruel.

I can only imagine the loss of a parent, and it is a nerve recking feeling. But, if I come to such a situation in life, then I think my primary concern would be myself. Yes, it feels odd to admit it, but as shocking as it sounds, it is really the truth. Every human (or probably its just me) is made in such a manner that nothing upsets us more than shortcomings in our own life. No matter how much we cry for others, we really weep for our "own" loss. We hate being in a situation where we lose a person who would/could love us unconditionally. And so begins a thought process whereby we force ourselves (sub-consciously) into fact situations in which we would miss the presence of our parent.

I think it would help, if we try to rise above ourselves (which is pretty hard) to acknowledge the fact that life is life; that it is hard. Death is an aspect which no one can escape and it gives peace (as little as it may seem) if we start to focus our attention towards the fact that death could have been more cruel. Of course, death is always sudden, and its a silly question when someone asks, "was it sudden?" for who would expect death of a close one even when it was foreseeable? It seems that it should give us some relief to acknowledge that people die worse deaths, and that in passing away our loved one did not have to suffer at the death bed.

These are things which I feel from an outsider's point of view, the fact being that I have had close encounters only in having to cope with the death of close relatives and probably that is the very reason I am able to think and write about it in such a manner....

Substituted Emotions

It happens at least once in everyone’s life; and I am sure it does. Each one of us is posed with a question which we do not want to find. Life does not offer solutions, only questions come naturally. What we may term as answers are in reality, only a way of ending our wait and the contemplation attached with it.

This is the bare truth.

And so I find myself lurking in doldrums about the sanctity of relationships and their essence. Most of us wait a lifetime in search of true love, to a lucky few-it just happens. In any which way, loss is the “grund norm” of love. What is important here and is the main question that disturbs me right now is how do we cope with such loss? Is it true that even if people are made to substitute those who have left, that emotions can substitute the loss of love? And love does get substituted; new liaisons destroy the sanctity of old ones.

Admittedly, in our society today, my parents are more open to the fact that people need to remarry or find someone new so that they may live happily ever after. That is how it is. Their generation seems more tolerant of it. Probably it is a grown up thing. Practically speaking it does make sense.

Yes it does.

But then again, have we travelled so ahead of our time, that we substitute relationships just like we do for things? Where do we go from here and how far? Is love too far or are we way ahead of it?

CoMpELLed!

“ she is bossy and aggressive and therefore a born leader. She slapped AN ELDERLY GENTLEMAN WHO PINCHED HER CHEEKS. SHE IS OUTSPOKEN AND CAN BE VERY LOUD AND SHRIEKY. AS FAR AS PERSONALITIES GO, SHE IS COMPLETE OPPOSITE OF HER BROTHER. BOTH ARE EXTREMELY HONEST.”

And thus explains joyshri lobo her “Present-generation” grandchildren.

“She slapped an elderly gentleman who pinched her cheeks.”

There’s something about these black eyed blocks that translate a thousand thoughts. They force me into submission to a moment from a fictional non-fiction existence.

There’s a girl on top of a bench. There’s a crowd. Batch mates. Classmates maybe would be a better word for them, morons. They who are speaking a million syllables in a single breath.. They, who don’t know that the girl on the bench has been forced to be there. The force emanating from insolent pestering by those who forget to acknowledge her in their blabber race . They, the ones who don’t know that she’s been sleeping 2 hrs, maybe less, with each passing day. They, who don’t know that she can get high by way of will alone. They, the “batch-mates.”

“SHAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHTTTTTT AP PEEE- PULLLLL”

Seconds of silence, perplexed looks, shocked embrace of sullen eyes. She knows they will listen now. Will the silence last and the command vibrate through a few more seconds of utter bliss?

Compelled.

It’s a strong word, but not fictional. She is compelled... She stands, not on the bench, but in the shoes of a 5yr old. On the porch of house where she would spend most of the 21yrs of her life growing up. This time there’s a girl in front of her, an entity-someone who would be a close friend in the future. Someone, who as of now is a cousin, an irritating, over-liked rival. An adamant soul. But then there are dew drops on her cheeks. Dew drops on a hot sultry summer evening? But that’s how they look-her tears.

Probably then, the girl who will stand on a bench one day, feeling like a maniac, pretending to be no one else, wanting to be different, is a sadist way before she knows the meaning or the existence of the term.

Sadists don’t have a conscience. Or am I wrong? An existence without conscience, is it like an actor who doesn’t know that the world’s a stage?

The child of a past- that engulfs the future. Is the sadist the future of the grand-child? Will the children of today face the sadists’ approach to life? Will she-whose cheeks are pinched today because of her countenance be compelled to be a maniac?

Will the countenance of someone’s present hide the flaws of an irate mind of the future, as also, the flaws of a parent who is lost because they are a part of an inexplicable plot ?Would the world of her future not remember the cheeks from a childhood when she slaps herself back?

Is it possible that force has a magnified multiplied reaction?