Loose Change

Spring and summers are rolling around. The mountains while struggling with varied climates, are bursting into their many hued shades of browns, yellows, greens, reds...  Nature at it's finest. Most summers, my phone and camera would be filled with photographs. Lovely no doubt, but a lot of them. This year somehow things are different. While a lot is being seen, not everything is being documented. At least not in a way that can be shared with the wider world. Some of it is just in my heart. Where I carry out silent conversations with the man. Talking about the interplay of light and shadows - his dear love. Showing up in places where one needs to stop, pause, slow down. and breathe. Yes, the tears flow.  Every single time.  Because missing him is such a constant that is hard to describe. Nature though as always forces its way in. With its light, its brightness, its vibrance, colours and life.  Making one laugh out loud at its silliness and gasp at its beauty. And...

What happens when 'enough' time has passed? When people stop talking about the person you miss so much? The person you think about all the time.  What happens when it is apparently long enough for you to start moving on with your life? And how  does  one define moving on? Does waking up everyday, exercising, cooking, fermenting, making cheeses, growing a lot of one's food, taking care of oneself and one's dog, working full time and doing it reasonably well...does all that count as moving on? Does that not count as things that a person is doing to stay sane? Because somewhere one does love oneself, how much ever other thoughts creep in.... But is it also not a part of one's life to feel that constant undercurrent of sadness? Of smiling and laughing at inane jokes and turning around to share them with the man...of picking up the phone to share a momentous work achievement, when the brain is telling you that there is no one at the other end of the line. So here is a sh...

Travelling for a few weeks, it made perfect sense to have someone house sit. How it turned out, has forced me to define the words in my title.   Friend - someone with whom you share values, conversations and similar interests Stranger - someone who was a friend at point in your life. And with whom you now have nothing in common Alcoholic - one who comes in as a friend, whom you discover has become a stranger and is now an alcoholic One to whom you entrusted your home and who has invaded every part of this home searching for alcohol. One who has gone through treasured home made gin that was left to mature. One who has slept through the day with no connection with Kimble. The one creature you were so sure he would find time for.  One who has left you feeling a loss of space in your own home. And grappling with the thought of people whose addictions have made them beings you no longer recognise.  And where you are re learning deep breathing as you walk about your home a...

This last month has been strange in so many ways. Beginning of the year should mean new beginnings, but the mind shrunk away from that thought. How can it be only 1 year since I lost the man? Has it been just 380 days since the man is no longer a physical part of my everyday life? Seems longer...so much longer...  So what has really changed in this last year? - I have become quieter. The excitement of sharing anything and everything with him...that is gone. The chatterbox has become quieter. A long trip away with so much seen and experienced - and the mind kept telling me that once I reach home, I won't have Manosh to share it with. - I miss speaking in Bangla. Ma would always talk about how much I love the language and how I would miss speaking it if I married a  'non Bengali'  - and I would dismiss it all. Sheer coincidence then that we fell in love and loved speaking in Bangla with each other. So many words, phrases and emotions in a language that don't come through ...

There's an unexplainable connection between the mountain skies and the man When do you stop his phone number? When do you delete the mail id? When do you…. Stop thinking about all of this? When do you stop looking at a hot guy and wanting to share it with him? Because, after all, he was your best friend and understood and indulged all your idiocies. When do you stop wanting to share a recipe that you have nailed to perfection?  When do you stop looking out of the window of the moving car and then look towards the passenger seat to smile at him? When do you stop saying ‘we’ and switch to ‘I’? When do you….

There is this strong independent woman inside me, who sometimes feels it to be unreal. I have a full life, contributing to the society, doing my own bit. Can drive, cook, do basic first aid, can manage finances (reasonably well)...how is it that with all these positives, the only thought that is always always overriding all this is how much I miss the man.  The other half, the one with whom my thoughts and sentences were complete. Who made me laugh, who understood and noticed small details that would fool everyone else.    The man did love the winter light     Jotting down a list of things (in no particular order), that I miss about him - His hands - the man had the most beautiful hands that I have seen till date. Long artistic fingers that bore truth to his love for working with them - be it the sourdoughs that he learnt via YouTube or his leather work or the ferments or the photography or the hand-crafted diaries or his cooking. - That broken tooth in the fron...