Truths in a goodbye

Sometimes, it is easy for people to leave, run away from tough times, even though too often in stories, they become heroes. But in reality it those who are left behind are the real heroes. Sometimes, it is easy for people who flee, to forget their past,erase their footprints and balm their old pains and heartaches; yet those who are left behind would not be able to do so that easily.

There is nothing graceful about leave-taking. It is not like turning off the radio after listening to your favourite song; nor does it look anything like turning the back page of the book you have been reading.  There is pain in it-there is a distant hope of returning, yet there is a fear that the person who is leaving will never look back in his/her stride away from you to shed you a one last smile, a wink or some sort of token to take home with you. There is torture in it that you are unable to categorize. It burns you and makes you oblivious to hunger and thirst. You think you have come to the end of the road; instead of seeing a by-road, all you see a tall wall to lean on, weep and fall asleep.

When times go by, the intensity of the feeling dies down. You will be able to go about in your daily duties without getting lost in the corridors of the past. There will be peace with a little something missing in it. You will be able to be indifferent to a tinge of familiar perfume coming with the wind, tread the same paths without stretching your hand involuntary to a grip you know you won’t find.  You begin to realize that it is easy to miss someone badly than continuing to hate that person for leaving you. After many lost battles, finally you concede the fact that, there are some things you can’t change- and you tried your best to see a different ending. You will outlive the anguish and narrate the story which does not make the leave-taker a hero.  Goodbyes do not make good bards; they only make mature individuals the hard way.

Heroes are those that hold their ground and fight back, they seek the fulfillment of passion that tempts one to live and die old. Heroes are those that understand change and do not blame everything on the fate. They are the ones  who build new fortresses when their old knights abscond at night. It is not fair to make a coward a hero and make yourself just the narrator in the epic of your battle. Admit it, you saw the end of the tunnel that was quite bright, it was pity the protagonist couldn’t see the light.

Misinterpreted silence

I was silent because I was too sad to speak. But, instead of trying to comfort me, you misread it as indifference. Sometimes, there is sadness that is undissolvable in tears, too complicated to be moulded into a cry, and too thick to flow freely out from the heart.

I was silent because I was too shy to speak. Instead of breaking the ice, you labeled me as ‘proud.’ Sometimes there are people who are not born with the charm to make friends at first sight. Some of them develop the skill with a lot of practice, the others just are content with their introvert-nature. The world is made that way, and dark horses are never too dark.

I was silent because I was in love. Instead of asking for the reasons for my crazy behaviour, you said I was drunk. Perhaps you did not know that, love makes people build castles in the thin air, and I was deciding on the color of chintz curtains for mine when u barged into my reverie.

I was silent because the truth I had to speak would have hurt you. Instead of counting your blessings, you said I was a one without an opinion. Sometimes, it is best when such things are not spoken, for ill-timed truths can throw people off balance. Sometimes, there is a reason why people do not comment when you ask for their feedback. However much brave you seem to look their criticism might shatter your lion-image in a second. Perhaps, you will be able to do without them.

I was silent because I was too happy to speak. Instead of stretching my smile into a one big laughter, you said I was insensitive. Sometimes, strong emotions make people speechless. It can be a feeling generated by a person and incident or even a work of art you came across by accident. A joy is something your wealth cannot buy and your bank vault cannot hold. Immerse yourself in it while you can and live with the memory when things get tough in life.

I was silent because I did not have anything to say that could make you feel better. Instead of rejoicing over the fact that I was not one of those to preach you impossible things, you said I was devoid of empathy. Instead of making lengthy speeches, I could only say ‘I am sorry to hear it.’ And while the others went on promising every comfort under the sun which you and I knew would never become realty, I could only hold your hand and cry with you. It is said grief is borne better when it is shared, and some have no clue as to how it is done other than crying with those who cry.

I was silent because I believe it is more powerful than the spoken word. Yet, like the truths that are twisted and statements that are misquoted, silence too was misinterpreted. There is comfort in it any one can draw when he/she wants. It resonates your heartbeat and the voice of your conscience.

Discoveries by accidents

When times go by you realize that gaining wisdom is harder than enduring the pain of an emerging wisdom tooth. You make countless mistakes; take many wrong turns or do not turn at all when you ought to have turned. Sometimes, apart from a very few people who genuinely care about you, others are only there to boast about their foresight once things turn upside down for you. Perhaps, what they do not realize is that an I-told-you-so look is not the best source of comfort one can provide.

When you get older, you will come to grips with the reality that world does not move to the pace you set. Traffic jams are villains that hinder your punctuality. Letters do not reach you on time. The bouquet of roses had become potpourri by the time it finds your arms. Neither this is your fault, nor is it that of the world. After much sprinting, you will finally understand the ideal speed that suits both you and the world. Until the discovery, you are free to run your own race.

When you cross the threshold of adulthood, you will realize that growing up is a tiring purpose and not every adult is a grown up. You can be a responsible adult and still have your age-old Teddy bear at your bedside. Growing up does not mean you cut your ties with your school friends, grandparents and those who used to be really close to your old self.

You can afford to fall in and out of love and learn from your mistakes. There is no hard and fast rule to get in and out of relationships. Go by what your heart dictates. There may be relationships that last for all seasons, and there are those that wither with time. it is not your fault that it did not move on the way you expected it to be. After all, a relationship is a discovery; it is not an act that goes according to a pre-written scrip. It can be both an adventure and a misadventure.

Once you are seasons by trials and tribulations, you will be humble enough to admit the blunders you made, the people you misjudged, the words you misinterpreted and the choices you made that did not bring right results. More than the outcome of the choice, what matters is that your bravery to make a choice and venture out of your comfort zones. Do not hate choices or try to turn your back at them once they arise your way. After many roller coaster rides, you will have the intuition to see things more clearly.

After all, not everyone with a wisdom tooth is wise

You will always be there

During the hot August days when the kites fly far above my head, I will picture you making ‘peacocks’ and ‘snakes’ for the neighbour boys from your colorful bundle of tissue papers, finally walking into the playground without a kite in your hand. You will be there in my August memories, like its inherent heat and the Sun that constantly smiles down on me.

Whenever I turn my Literature notes, which never went to the bin along with other books, I will picture you patiently explaining Elliot’s principals, desperately trying to make me not hate cats so much. I will remember you being sidetracked by an occasional hymn you sang at church and ending up teaching me its meaning instead of the poem we were supposed to learn. You will be there in that study-room memories, a teacher with a patience that hardly suited your age and a brain that I believed was too heavy for your little head.

I will walk on the footpaths we walked before, under familiar trees, which bore fruits, the taste and shape of which we knew so well. I will picture you acting my guardian and the elder brother who could never be as strict as you wish you were. Even if the those trees go to the axe and gateposts and car parks appear in their places, I will take along with me the memory of you, walking under the canopied trees, carrying my things on our way home after school. You will be there in my heyday memories, the one that never asked for a share of my success when others demanded a shred of my limelight.

I will keep playing the final few hours in my head and laugh at my childishness to follow you around the house when I ought to have been helping you with packing.  I will count the number of people who came to see you and your wife off at the airport, and wonder what could glue people to you in such a lasting way. I will picture you in your wedding photo- the proud groom who was desperately trying not be overjoyed. You will always be there in my awesome memories of grownup life, a skinny little boy who grew up to be the man he always aspired to be.

Friends walk in and out of life and some say they lost their best friends for men and women who become their better halves. I will say mine is an exception. On gloomy Sundays when there is no cricket to watch or no more music to calm me down, I will hear your lonely saxophone that summons my feet to a slow dance. The modern saint, surrounded by a bunch of church kids who thought you were their Einstein, your place will eternally be there.