The rhythm in your life?

My roommate and I were on the painful return trip from the gym. Late at night, hungry and doggone tired! We also realized the unfortunate fact that there was no food at home…and stopped at a take away counter on the way to pick up some food.

It was not the restaurant but its location, which was in the spotlight. Situated in a busy street called Tippasandra, it sits amidst the heart of the entire hustle-bustle of the entire marketplace. With a community hall sitting not so far away from it…
That community hall is what I noticed last night. It was shining brightly even at that time of the night…shining brightly amidst all the surrounding chaos and mayhem. There was a wedding underway inside. The exterior resplendent in floral finery with the names of the bride and the groom etched out in beautiful floral creations…that take long hours to execute and shorter hours to wither! Bright lights decorating the entire exterior and announcing the presence of an ever brighter bedecked bride sitting within. Loud orchestrated noise could be heard coming from within…and in the midst of all the tiredness, I suddenly felt the urge to dance the local dance …in the middle of the road…right then…Dance away the pains? Dance away your sorrows? Maybe it does make sense after all!

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Almost a year

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...

If the grief won't get to you, the paperwork will

Days pass by and it seems like yesterday, but also aeons since I lost my partner. My best friend. How do you explain this grief that refuses to go away? Grief that seems to have made a home in a tiny space in your heart? Grief that 'allows' you to laugh, but also makes you feel strange about that laughter. Just when you think you are figuring things out, taking one tiny step forward, and feeling like you are moving ahead...wham! The paperwork starts... Sending his death certificate - over and over again - looking at his age stated on the certificate - 53 years 10 months 6 days, and having it committed to your memory. Letting people know that yes, you are the only surviving member who is still alive... And then doing it all over again. And again. And once more. Days when the pain in your leg is outweighed by the pain in your heart. Pain that doesn't allow sleep to help your body run away from that pain, even for a moment. Days when you would like to join your yoga class...

Grieving and healing

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 ...

Loose Change

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