Once upon a time there was this
girl. Young and beautiful, short in height. And she loved this boy to the core.
The boy meant everything for her. It was a love, youthful and teenage. The
dedication was complete, the feeling intense, the possibility of togetherness
giving hope bigger than hope. Her parents knew nothing, for surely they
wouldn’t want to know nothing. Deeply rooted in the society, they wanted their
daughter to not taint their name. The younger brother had no clue, but in a
closely knit family, a cousin sister was the partner in crime. She was the
secret keeper to this girl who was more than ever in love.
Life isn’t rosy and it was not to
be. The boy on a bike with two more friends, wind in their hair and the
adrenaline of youth. They were on the way to write an exam, but they forgot
life every day is an exam where survival itself is the top reward. A crash or
collapse, wreck less or innocent but the fate of that girl altered once and for
all. The two friends survived, but the boy did not and he left everything as if
it was never his. The news came in phases to this girl who held the hope. She
went to the temple and prayed with bleeding heart bowing her temple. But it was
over and it was done. She will not see him ever not even once.
The lightening had struck and the
darkness had lifted. The parents had come to know of the interest. The best
hope is that they wouldn’t be happy, but moreover they weren’t concerned. The
cousin cried for her sister, as she was close. She knew the girl will not live
no more. It was the end of her dreams and hope; it was never to be as it was.
Went on the life with cries and
memories; each day contemplating with pain and misery. Is it the death that’s
painful or is it nothing compared to living? She felt it all and dragged
herself to the routines and chores with little enthuse. Only the dreams gave
some comfort when she was with him, just to make the waking up hurt so much
more. The right age arrived and a match was found, for parents can’t have her
all her life around. It was for her good and for her best; the most suited, the
best fitment. She had no choice, nor heart to choose, for her heart was clueless
of what it wants. Yet, it was ok as parents think best and only had her best in
their hearts.
Off she go to a new start,
everything previous was a thing of past. A homeopathy medic but confined to the
house for household chores never leave time. And soon a boy arrived, who will
call her the mother in no time. The husband was good and loved too fine but his
love for alcohol was no less in time. It grew and grew for abuses grew and at
times the slaps threw in. She cried but she was weak for she kept on taking the
heat. She would pick him from the floor, or at times from someone else’s floor
and once he was even found in the drain. The parents knew but what could they
do, for they had chosen the best they could do. The son was walking and calling
her ‘mum’ and that one word made everything worth it. The hope rose again and
so did the concern for future, not for herself but for her boy.
She gathered her love and showered it all – on
her son and the husband alike. Hope creates love and love gives hope for if one
isn’t there the other is no more. On that small hinge, hangs the life – the
good and worse tipping the balance all the while. The son went to kindergarten
on his own feet, the husband loved back with all his might. The drinks and
falls seem to reduce, and the work was on to rehab. She took a job with a local
firm; and she became a healer in true sense. She is the same as she was then,
but the pain does not paralyze as then. What was then was good and lovely, but
that was not the only lovely. What you have is what you can nurture, and the
same thing is what you can flounder. The wise ones say, ‘Why me’ is never the
solution and ‘acceptance’ is always better than premonition. But it’s one thing
to say or write and one thing to live it in life. For life is the master teacher
and time heals like no other healer! Live it so while it stays then merge with
it as the light flicks off.
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