Until Next Time

“It wasn’t that I wanted to go home

Who knew home? I only knew alone.

What I wanted was to be elsewhere,

Somewhere, anywhere but there.”

I am forever longing for death. When people around me crave to live, I could never derive meaning out of their desire! I always wanted to die… Slowly, painlessly and alone. Over the time, my death instinct has become an inexorable habitual thought. To me, self-harming is a matter of immense solace because I am always incapable of describing those momentary emotions which visit me, intermittently. I am yearning to merge into there, into that infinite nothingness. Until very recently, nothing ever had the power of diluting my urge to die. But this October came and faded, leaving a swelling torment. Now, I am aware of how death can grab away the soul of the living with that of the dead.

Eleven nights have withered since she slept, forever, without putting me to sleep.  At benumbed nights, I extract mute frames from the endless reel of memories containing us.  Day and night, I travel back to all those songs which we used to listen together.When music subsides, I take comfort in the lie of being enveloped in her warmth. I can still hear her calling me fondly, I can feel her fingers moving through my hairs and her lips on my forehead.  Many a time, I tried making home out of people but all went in vain. Some of them crumbled while others mouldered. But I have better nested in her because she sought nothing! She is my definition of love, my peace personified and the most beautiful miracle I have ever known. 

Though she deserved life in all its abundance, she chose death. Even in those last conscious hours, she was happy about dying. Maybe, the happiest. What debilitates my heart is the question whether she had ever thought of me, at least for a fraction of second, before diving into the depth of nihility. . . 

 Nevertheless, I will keep on loving her. I won’t fetter the memories of our time together and drown them within the pandemonium of everyday life. I will never name my regrets and grief after her. Wherever I go, I will sow her there. One day, on the other side of life, we will meet. There, like two lost sisters who found each other after years, we will cocoon ourselves in an inescapable embrace.

Ultimately, living is all about waking up from the illusion of permanence to the reality of transience. Once disillusioned, we just have to grab what’s left of us and traverse the agony. 

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( No more words are dripping off my cold finger tips. Even if letters manage to spill on the screen, backspace is wiping off all of that. The ditty wafting in the room contains only her-

“Nee mattume, en nenjil neerkirai /  You are the only one staying in my heart

Azhikka azhikka azhiyaamal/ I wipe and wipe still you don’t disappear

Thudakka thudakka marayaamal/ I rub and rub still you don’t disappear

Oliveesi oliveesi/ And you shine and shine

Nee mattume, en nenjil neerkirai/ You are the only one staying in my heart” )