Posts Tagged ‘memories’

Past Baggage?

Does your past ever evade you?  Or does it form a part of your present?

For me my past is an integral part of who I am today. It has taught me to love and lose, to cry over something lost and to smile for the happiness it has brought forth, to miss the moments that were and to smile for the fact that they happened, to realize that it’s finally over and to know that it’s over for a reason.

But then, does love ever stop?  For me love never dies, it changes form. So for someone I’ve loved with all my heart and soul, the love will never cease to be there. But it has a new dimension – from romantic illusions of a life together, it is a quite and resilient happiness for all that is signifies today- for him to be in a place he is happy in and I to be happy for him, irrespective of who he is with and where.

For me, my past was never a romantic affair that ended mid-way with copious amounts of tears and tearing and burning of mushy cards. My past was a love who perhaps never knew how much I loved him and wanted to be a part of his life. It’s weird because with him I can’t imagine that I would have ever held his hands and taken a walk by the beach, whispering sweet nothings. With him it was more of loving him by being with him, by being around him and most importantly belonging to him. That’s the only thing that I’ve ever wanted- to belong to him, not in a slave kind of way but in a way that nobody has ever felt – that close, that familiar. And that never happened. I loved, I lost. But it etched my mind forever- with a love that can never be washed away…

Today I am a stronger woman- a happier woman. I know I have enough love in my heart to give to someone who doesn’t care and someone who does. And for both I’m thankful.


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A year…

It’s exactly one year today since I last heard my dad. Since I last heard him call my name, since I last heard him laugh, since I last heard him tell me how much he missed me around.

I go back to Kolkata again today…to remember him and mourn him with the family…together…to hold ma tight and tell her she’s not alone, to remember baba together for all the good times and all the hard times, to remember his jokes and his antics, to wish that this day never came into our lives.

In the last one year I dont think there has ever been a day when I havent wished him here…around me…physically. There have been so many times when Iv picked up the phone to call him, only to realize that its futile. His number still stays on my phone, with his name and his picture…and I look at it wistfully hoping one day it will ring and he will be on the other end, talking to me. I dont cry anymore…my tears have dried up long long ago…tears dont come to me anymore…not even if I try hard.

One year ago I didnt think I could pass a day without him around. I couldnt move a step without holding his hand, I couldnt do anything without telling him…how would I live? but a year has gone by and we have emereged out of it…alive…accepting…not stronger.

Baba…u live in each one of us…every single moment, every single day…ur gone…but only in body. You remain my hero…now and forever.

I miss you and I love you.

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Its on days like today that i start questioning what relationships really mean…what they are…and how much of it is for real?  when we went to school all our friends had the concept of rakhi brother- a brother who was not flesh and blood but who was perhaps a brother of convenience…most of the time they turned out to be boyfriends at a later stage but well…that’s another story…the easiest way to meet boys in school and yet not hide and meet them. I, for one, always scorned this concept and for me this never existed…how could someone not related to you somehow be your brother? friend, buddy, pal? yeah…brother…nevaaah!!!

and then many years later I met this idiot ( lets call him A)who made me get my arse off my high horse and realize that sometimes these relationships do come true. He showed me that relationships go beyond sheer family…they are what you make of them…not necessarily what they were made to be.  And these relationships are really that touch you deep inside your soul, where perhaps youve always had a silent whine for a pal/buddy you’ve never had.

A and me dont go back very very long. Its not like we have known each other forever and grown up together. While i love believing in that kind of a soppy story and feel, the truth is A and i met through work, surprisingly thru my cousin brother. At that time A used to work for a coffee chain and I for a NGO. He was this charming young man who helped me out big time on a project i was doing and the next thing I knew i was introducing him to M and we were all having dinner together. Then A moved…to Hyderabad i think and i thought in my mind that it was nice knowing such a charming young guy, now that we wouldn’t be in touch anymore…those were the days when there was no facebook to claw you out of any semblance of sanity or privacy you might have left. We did lose touch and then got back in touch after some time and this time it continued. We grew closer and fonder of each other. and then he was going again…this time far far away where we wouldnt even be able to talk. i was sad and this time around i knew this would really be the end of our friendship…but we continued.

Somewhere over the years we became more than friends…he is the baby brother iv never had…to spoil, to scold, to love endlessly and to bitch with. he claims i am the sister he has never had ( he is too busy courting women to think of them as anything else anyway).

But all these days our relationship has never been tested the way it was yesterday. Something stupid i did led us to fight and for him to say some very mean things to me…and it hit me then… it shook me from the core of my soul and perhaps hurt me like my own brother would never ever have managed to do. and i cried…not for what he had said…but for what he made me out to be. i decided it wasnt worth picking up with him…because he probably didnt feel this way. And then today he came back…told me how he felt…about what I said, about us, about what I meant to his life. And while I sat there listning to him ( rather reading him online), I had tears streaming down my face. because i knew that somewhere in the world, far far away, there was also a small brother grieving at the hurt he caused someone who loved him for real. and he taught me that brothers are for real…even if they are not made of your own blood.

I love you lots A

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It was long long ago.

 She was a little girl, still in school, starry eyed about the notions of love. He was her brother’s friend- dashing, intelligent and nice- her idol, her mentor, her brother. They spent a lot of time together, he lazing on the sofa on hot afternoons with the other boys, ordering her around, she in awe, completing all the errands and still wanting to do some more. At times she hated him- for not looking at her in a special way, for not loving him the way she did, for not staying that extra minute because she wanted him to. But he loved her too- like his own little sister, because he didn’t have one, like someone he could bully and he knew she would never mind. She looked forward to it every week- when the boys would come home from school, hungry and tired and crabby- to eat before they left for tuitions together or just to play a game of football. She hated them for how much they ragged her. But she loved him for being there always- like a part of her soul, a part of her being.

Some afternoons were special- those long dreary days when she would go to his house with her brother- after her some time her brother would leave for his tuitions and he would drop her home. All the way, in a bus. She would sit at the window and pretend she was looking out- but her heart would flutter because he was next to her- so close- it felt like she had him to herself forever. They would chat and he would make her laugh. She would love to be with him and she would silently wish it would stay this way forever. Her friends told her it was a crush, just an infatuation. But she knew it could never be that. It was love. For today. For tomorrow. Forever.

And then they grew up one day. Just that he grew up too fast for her. She grew up too, but held onto what had been once upon a time. She still saw him occasionally. Girls swooning over him. Girls just waiting to get his attention. She laughed as she saw these girls. This was infatuation. What she had, was love. They didn’t know him. They only saw the part of him he wanted to show . They didn’t know him like she did. They didn’t love him like she did. She was sure of that. There was no jealousy. It was all amusement. He still looked at her from time to time. But just to say hi. Or enquire how she was, or her mom or her dad. That was enough. Because it was still love. She loved him and always will.

He got married. To a girl who everyone liked and said was very very nice. She was happy for him. That he had found someone he loved. Who loved him and he understood it. That was important. That this time he could see the love. Did he not see her love then? All these years? It didn’t matter anymore. She still loved him. But she didn’t go to his wedding. Not because she hated him for marrying a girl he loved. But because she couldn’t see her dreams get over. She was happy for him. She really was. She cried copious amounts of tears- but she knew he would be fine. He had found his love. And she had found hers. So what if he married someone else. She wasn’t hurt. She wasn’t angry.

Today, it’s been many years past. She is married too. She still loves him. She hasn’t seen him in years- but she knews what he looks like, what he sounds like, how he laughs, what he says. She recognizes his voice in an instant as her calls her across the oceans to tell her how sorry he is about her father. She cries for the first time that day since her father died. Because she mourns two men in her life- one who defined who she is today and one who is still a part of her soul.

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Daddy’s Little Girl

Iv always heard people say that girls share a bond with their father- a bond so deep that its inexplicable- a bond so deep that only those who have experienced it know whats its like, a bond so deep that perhaps now that dad is gone for good, will I realise what he meant to me.

Dad left for good about 3 weeks back- to a place from where he will never return. Never. And as I sit and type this, I can feel him looking down on me and smiling and nodding his head- proud that his little girl is holding up so well, fighting back her tears- probably sad that he went without even telling his little girl how much he loved her-but relieved of all the pain that he endured the last year. 

Baba, I miss you- I miss all those time we spent together laughing and joking, fighting and crying- just being together- just being there for each other. And as I sit here this evening, looking at the photograph on my table, I can feel you around me. But I’m angry- angry because you were not supposed to go, angry because u didnt wait for me, angry because u left us alone, angry because this was not supposed to be the way I had ever thought.  Angry, because now you’re here with me…not in person but in a frame. But beyond this anger, there is a love that I feel that cant be explained. 

I never told you that I loved you all the time that you were around except for the last time I saw you in hospital waving out to me the day I left. And even though I knew you would be ok, tears streamed down my face as I took that flight back to work, to routine. And as I sat there on the runway, I never thought I would have to come back so soon to say goodbye to you forever. But as the days pass and the pain grows deep, I realise that you will now be with me forever. It’s ironical that as long as you were here in person, you could never be with us at all times of day and night. And now while I cant hear you over the phone, I know I just have to close my eyes and reach out to you…and you will be there baba- holding my hand and guiding me through it all.

I love you baba…and I miss you.


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