Posts Tagged ‘tragedy’

I have seen mighty minds crumble, the sane go insane, and the resolute losing their temper, the brave becoming wimps, faces being forgotten and children absconding. Now that I think of it, all of it has happened around me. When I dip my head into retrospection, I notice all the fingers point to me. It feels like an epiphany, a revelation:

It has been me all along!

Sometimes I wonder if I am at the bottommost layer of the human emotional evolutionary chain. That I think too much and that maybe it would one day be the reason for my passing.

How are others nailing it so well? How are they able to laugh through it all? Why are they so unfazed?

I feel I am very hard to live with, that I push people away. Unknowingly but voluntarily, I often end up forcing myself into my very own fortress of solitude. No wonder I choose to live alone in my dusky lair.

It is almost as if I seek grief deliberately. That I have always headed towards a disquieting pit ahead, and no amount of saving could actually save me. My downfall was written in the stars, and this is how I was meant to go. Sulking over spilled milk, lost under a countless what ifs, with a mind brooding over different outcomes and a body playing out different stories.

I have often heard people talking, how if there were no bad times you wouldn’t know how to appreciate the good ones. Then I wonder what if I like bad times? What if it makes me feel alive, makes me feel what people feel when they talk about living on the edge. What if I am more of me in its company? What if I am trying to forever seek a tearpit hammock to rest?

I might like this waning, the bittersweet demise of my body that gradually takes me away into the oblivion. What bothers me the most is my blunt malignancy whilst getting there. The repercussions that emanate therefrom hurt others in the process. That’s what is killing!

When I see all those fallen people around me, I can’t help but curse myself:

What have I done?

In my brazen meanness to get what I want, I end up doing the despicable. I end up torturing them, burning them down with my pathetic rancour.

What did they do to deserve me in the first place?

Insecurities follow me like little ducklings around and they mess up everything good going on in my life. They smear my face with its kohl making me beyond obvious. What a tragedy to be me!

Only a fool would wish to stay. To knowingly entwine their lives into mine and welcome their slow death. I can’t do that to a person. It’s a cost that would go down really heavy on my head.

All this contemplation often directs my thoughts to other grief-stricken souls in the world. In my very own private moments, I often think out loud:

Are there others like me?

And if yes, how are they still alive?

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The perpendicular universe no hands

The world around me is crumbling. People are falling down. Breaking bad. Failing. Collapsing. Ending up in beds. Twitched. Contorted. Distorted. Disfigured. Bleeding.

Whilst all of this is happening, I am right there in their center, standing, watching them go down. My eyes read disbelief. Looking at them go down. One by one. I feel helpless. As if I am a plague. A dreadful contagious one. Wherever I go, birds drop dead. The globe darkens. The sun slips into an eclipse. Animals moan and fall. I feel horrible.

I am watching them turn. I can witness their change amidst unmatched rejuvenation. One moment everything is fine. We are having a time of our life, the next we are devoured by the unprecedented jaws of chaos. Time stops by when they are converting like a zombie. In those fleeting seconds, I can see them lose it. An inexplicable fallacy swallows them up. They become bitches to it, and then they are not here. Here, yet not here.

Somewhere I feel responsible. Like I could have saved them. I had the chance gawking at me, mocking me in my face. Something tells me if I had just tried harder, if I had used the right words….if I could have just stopped them! But tragedy always lurks in the shadows, waiting to happen. No matter what you say or do. You can’t stop the inevitable.

People wouldn’t listen. They have a mistaken sense of honour, a mistaken sense of discernment, that can never be overpowered. You feel powerless in front of them, trying. That’s what happened. And then I am left up with a world of thoughts, and a sky full of what-ifs.

Tragedies are written. We are just living it.

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My reflection stared hard into my eyes. It was blurry, for tears began forming up. It said, “Don’t cry! Don’t cry! Be brave!” But I wouldn’t listen. I don’t listen to my reflection. I listen to nobody when my glass is brimming. All I remembered him saying was, “I saw my father in my room.”

A dear friend of mine lost the most important part of his life. His father. Tragedy hit him like a bullet. It was bound to collide as days of suffering suggested. He knew it. Things were not looking good for the past few months. He just hung on. With hope. He kept looking. He kept up his search. Solutions weren’t solutions. They were mere reflections of the bitter truth. Death – The bitter end to everything that breathes.

I wasn’t aware. For the past few weeks, he ran from clinics to hospitals, looking for every ray of light that read hope, with his unabated diligence to set things right and to make his dad stand on his feet again. I had no idea. Whilst I was busy living my life to the fullest, he was busy saving a life from waning. I wasn’t there at all. I was not even in the background. Estranged.

When things got serious I contacted him, only to be a part of his dismay. He mentioned how serious his father’s condition had become. Uncle was, in fact, in the hospital. When my friend came back home, he said he saw him there, standing in his room. He broke into tears on the phone. I didn’t know what to say. My tears simply connected his. It was a tough moment for him. I knew. I was there mentally. Standing next to him consoling, trying to flow with his tears.

I just felt impotent. Nothing I could do to reverse the event. I am no doctor. I am no God. I am nothing. I just felt so helpless. So powerless. Without an undo button. Yet, I reckoned all my options. Made couple of calls to see if miracles existed. Preposterous solutions came up. At such an hour, he was ready to hear anything. I was ready to believe anything. Whatever worked.

The next morning his dad passed away. I couldn’t react. He wrote to me, consumed by profound grief, how he thinks his dad would return anytime, that he had just gone out. How he might show up just like that and bring smiles to their faces!

I am aware how his house would be speaking of gloom. How it would reek of pain for days! How deafening the silence would be! How crazy the minds would think! How tasteless the food would seem! How sad their happy would be! I am well aware. I can empathize it all. For a moment, there is nothing alive. For days, weeks and months, nobody actually lives.

So many sleep-deprived nights. So much care. So much trouble taken. So many tears spent contemplating. So many nerves broken apprehending. All for nothing. All for naught.

I want to be a part of his misery. Just to be there. To be able to tell him that I am there. To hold his back upright. To see to it that he doesn’t fall. To listen to his hollow voice. To understand. To empathize. To let him dry out all his tears. To cry with him. To die with him. But I have these walls around me that wouldn’t let me leave. Had I been in a better room, I would have stood up and left without a second thought.

I remember when a dear friend faced a similar mishap back in my college days. I remember him telling me how he felt. While I listened to him, I cried incessantly. All his aspiration for his father, all his dreams that he knitted alongside him, all the future he created together, how it all shattered in a jiffy! Just like that! Life’s way of telling you – it is evanescent.

Sometimes I wonder what makes this life so short. What defines our confinements? Why can’t we live and just live? Why is there grief when somebody leaves? Why do we miss them when they do? What makes our strength to go on, so feeble? What changes our conviction to live? Death always screws things up. Why is He so jealous of the living?

I called home. I cried and cried for my friend’s loss. What bothered me more was the fact that I couldn’t be with him during his desperate times. What tore me to pieces was the fact that I couldn’t be a friend indeed.

I surmise, eventually, it doesn’t really matter that I made up my mind to visit. That eventually, I decided to be at my friend’s side but my plans didn’t pan out. That I cried for his loss. That I already became a shoulder when I heard the bad news. That I told my parents how bad I wanted to be with him. However, what matters in the end is, I wasn’t there when he needed me the most.

As I ramble across the shores of Chennai, waves look sad. They wouldn’t even reach my feet. They are silently aware of a great loss. They are trying to pay their tributes. My heart reaches out to Uncle’s soul. I just want him to understand how much his family fought for him. How hard they tried! How they spent sleepless nights and tearful days to bring him to life again! They did not fail. They did not succeed. His resistance was simply too strong.

My friend’s loss is shattering. I just hope nobody on this planet has to go through something tragic like that. Death makes living impossible. It has to learn to let people live without it.

But most importantly, ‘we’ have to learn to live around it.

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I write pain. Does that mean, I am a sad soul?

Life is a tragedy. I have said it so many times, that tragedy knows me now. If I stop thinking about it, it doesn’t become less justified. The fact remains. The truth stands.

Today, I listened to a story so tragic I wish I didn’t have the power to empathize. I listened to death. Believe me – His voice is shaky, dark, dreadful and unforgiving.

Two people. Mad in love. One is taken. In a poof. One survives. While death, void of emotions, watched her weep.

I see the survivor every day. Her face talks death. I know those smiles are fake. I know that ecstasy is compelled through prolonged weariness. I know the happiness on the face of my survivor has nothing to do with this mundane earth. Yet my survivor is always there, making the world happy, making the world a better place to live in and making amends to this pointless life.

Have you ever witnessed an accident? Have you ever been a part of it? She witnessed an accident so tragic it makes my heart weep. I can’t imagine the horror she had to go through. Walls of the car painted red. Limbs cut. What not.

She watched ‘him’ go. In seconds. Poof! Just like that. He was there with her a minute ago laughing and having fun. She was having the time of her life with her to-be-soulmate. But fate had other plans for her. I have never really liked fate. That dumb old bastard! I have never really liked death as well. He screws life.

I have observed. Her face always wears a smile. She hides her emotions so well! People get duped all the time. But now I know. Now her eyes tell a different story to me. She is scared of this world. She is scared of accidents. She is scared of death. Yet she is brave like a lion. Funny like a clown. Lovely like a rose though living like a zombie. There is tragedy, right there. Sitting silently in the corner, her eyes full of tears.

I don’t know how I would have taken it. I whine at a mere heart-break. She just watched him leave this world. My angst feels so trivial now. She watched him leave her alone, involuntarily. He wished to stay. They were meant to be together. They could have had a great life. This happy-ending leaflet was simply plucked out. At least, I found out what happened to my relationship. She never even got the chance.

Death is a tragedy. So is living, after you have seen death.

I picture the hurt. I empathize for people. I make it mine. I will write for them. If they have words, I know how to put them on a paper. If they wish to be heard, I will listen. If possible I might alleviate them. If not then I will cry with them.

Yes! I am a sad soul. I am an emotional wreck. I feel for the suffering out there. Gazillions of dusky souls with their zillions of problems. I wish to write, if not to them, then for them.

I’ve seen you so many times now. I am losing track. Your memories are getting stronger. Instead of getting hazy, they are going conspicuous. Very unusual but I’ve forgotten everything bad about you now. Love does that to you, I guess.

Yesterday I had a dream. I am not sure why. But I saw you once again. All this time, I had stopped thinking about you. You would be there, but I would overlook. I would see all those other things in my life that would bring smile to my face. I would try my best to eschew you or any of your thought that would cause a chemical imbalance in my head. But the dream happened, as if happening in a parallel universe in reality. It being a different universe altogether, I am not sure I remember much. But I do remember one thing for sure. It was you.

Here’s what I dreamt: (an excerpt from my personal diary of dreams, Yeah! not real)

I was busy chatting with my friends and having fun, when out of the blue she appeared from mist and stood next to me. Just like Mal in Inception, she appeared like a strong memory. I can still remember her face woeful with miserable written all over it. Strange but I’ve always pictured her that way. I’ve never had a dream wherein I’ve seen her smiling or even happy. She looked really sad. She pointed, “You forgot me na!” and with a pang in my heart I realized within seconds that it was true. For a couple of months I haven’t had a single thought of her. Not a single dream about her. I had finally surmounted my heart until, of course, now. How did she find her way to me? I thought, “I had really forgotten her for a while.” I felt this sudden urge, a strange urge to apologize to her and to set things right again. She started to wither then. Like dreams are meant to be. Unpredictable. I tried calling her. She picked up but she was still adamant, like she was six years ago, in that coffee place. She kept on giving assertions, “You’ve forgotten me. Yes! You have!” I was speechless, once again, choking. I kept saying to her, “Listen to me. Listen to me at least!” and the phone died.

I woke up. I tried to forget what I saw. I carried out my routine, just like any other jaded day. It was only in the afternoon when I saw you once again, your picture on the famous social networking site. Smiling in one of them. Weary in another. The weary one got me strangely attracted. I got this sudden urge to pick you up in my arms, you cuddling towards safety finding your way in my bosom and me saying, “My baby! Come here and get some sleep.”

I couldn’t help but click on your pictures. Something I barred my heart from doing all these years, because I know my heart is weak. It succumbs to you every now and then. I went through all of them. My mind would, meanwhile, talk to me sanely like, “Why are you doing this?” and my heart would confront it, “I don’t care. I am just so human!” My hands were involuntary. They kept on flipping every page. I let go those tears I was never fond of keeping.

Life is a tragedy. No matter how happy you are. I always thought of myself as a happy guy. But these thoughts of you, make me feel otherwise. I get a feeling, that I would never, ever be really happy without you by my side.

You are like a drug to me and I am addicted. Yet you or not dead and I am not really alive.