Breathing....Pausing...

Spring and summers are rolling around. The mountains while struggling with varied climates, are bursting into their many hued shades of brows, 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 them 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 smile in the midst of tears.

Yellow berries foraged and in a leaf cup. With a dog visible in the background. Top shot of an A frame loom with a greenish yellow cloth being woven. And on the loom. Wild thyme plant growing in the midst of dried oak leaves

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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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