A Good-Bye Letter

 

Little did I know that I am going to die today. But my soul had chosen to depart on a pleasant day, just the way I like it. I have spent hours thinking of how should death be for me. Yes, I did think about that part in detail. After all, what can an old woman in her 100+ years do? I am wrinkled beautifully…the lines making me more beautiful. My relationships are not dependent on me but I am on them. I am now a great grandmother but neither can I enjoy these benefits or take the responsibility for the newborns. Heck! No one would even trust me to take up such responsibilities. 

They say I am now forgetting things. But little do they know that I have memories stored in me. I remember a lot of their childhood, a lot of their children’s childhood. What I don’t remember is the recent things happening around me. That’s because my mind is all dwelling in the past. Coz that’s where I lived…and that’s where my presence was important. I was loved and at peace but not realizing the peace as I was too busy at that time. This present tense has nothing to offer me but peace of a different kind. Peace in terms of time. The time is now my friend. It no longer runs past as it did in my dutiful days of youth. I never found time. And today, I have time in plenty but those around me don’t have it for me. It's ok, I understand, I too have lived that age and stage. So after finishing up with my morning routine, I come down to sit peacefully in my community. 

It's basically getting out of the house so that people in the house can relax and not have to do things for me. I don’t want to disturb anyone. Yes, I want to help. But I am scared. I am scared I will make a mistake and my folks won't like it. They won't say it, but their distrust is not what I want to earn. I have already earned that enough. I don’t know I am old until I see myself in the mirror or am made to feel by everybody around me. I like it when I am offered a place to sit, every time I go somewhere. I know nobody likes me talking, as my speech is not very clear due to broken teeth. 

I know I try too hard to entertain the younger generation but they just smile and nod rapidly to get back to their lives and excuse themselves but are being polite out of respect. I am alone. I need to accept that. But what do I do? I am afraid if I am too silent, I will be considered dead. I will be non-existent. I like to see little grandchildren of mine playing around me but am scared to touch them and play with them, what if I upset their parents or hurt them. They somehow like me a little perhaps but they too have a busy day planned ahead of them.

So I sit here all by myself. I still feel pretty. I still feel knowledgeable and have plenty to share but nobody to listen to. And so I resort to writing. But little did I know that I am dying today. The birds are chirping for me for the last time. I want to take in most of this world. There is never enough. Yet I pray for my death as I don’t want to burden my family. I know they will cry out of the habit of seeing me around. My death will stir up the memories to come to the surface and I will be happy to be remembered for my past, for the existence of mine that they valued much. But soon, and by soon I mean, very soon they will go their way, suppressing their sighs, subconsciously feeling guilty for feeling at ease after I have passed away. It means one less responsibility from their busy lives, an extra bed and a room for their children or for their storeroom even and I don’t blame them. I am happy to see the world outside but I don’t want to remember anything anymore. Countless memories have been relived countless times and I now want to be the same toothless person but a cuter version of me someplace else. 

Everything seems scary now. Because it will all be out of my comfort zone. Everything in my new upcoming life is unpredictable but if one goes by karma, I think I haven’t given much happiness to my family and the people around me. I have been more of a taker, less of a giver. Perhaps that’s the definition of being lucky. So I was lucky in love, lucky in having a beautiful family, parents and my child is the most wonderful soul and I have been very very lucky that he has taken care of me more than anyone can possibly do or even think of. But for now, this is a goodbye letter. I hope I can write again to share my after-death experiences as well.

What’s My Story? Depression, Guilt?

 My story is about depression, about anxiety. And about overcoming it. 

No, this isn’t an advisory blog. This is just to let you know the only and only way that helped me come out of it was self-realization with time. The advices from people in fact made this journey a long one. I wasn’t very happy to discuss my personal life with others but when the wave of depression hits you, you try to breathe, try hard pushing all your limbs and the only time you breathe fresh air by coming up on the surface is by talking. But people don’t understand this cry of help. They think you are insane, talking too much, irritating, self-centered. Everything they seem to know but the real fact that they do not acknowledge is that we need help. We are humans, a human touch, a listening ear, a meaningful embrace is all that is needed to help us through. 

At this time when Sushant Singh Rajput is no more, there are millions of posts and re-posts mainly, suggesting people in depression to come out of the closet and speak about their fears and problems to close friends. FRIENDS???? Where are they? They are only there to ignore you in such times. At first, they listen to you because there is a story there about your life. A story that has something to soothe the listener, the so-called friend. They show sympathy in the beginning but then its a pleasure that they aren’t experiencing what we do and then it transforms into a superiority feeling and this is what they think, “I would’ve dealt with this situation better. And of course, I wouldn’t be going around telling people about things and situations and people in my lives. This woman really needs to grow up.” Yes they will speak good things to you at first, but believe me your story will be doing the rounds and people will ask you uncomfortable questions time and again, at every gathering. Some will even show that they are true friends, listen to you and mock at you. You already know the deal. Your story for their entertainment. Don’t sign this. 

I am not here to advice anyone what to do. 

But I understand life or our own wrong doings sometimes may seem to hit us hard but even if I wont say it, you already know how to deal with it. The only and only thing I would like to strongly suggest is DO NOT SHARE. PUBLIC PLATFORMS ARE SAFER THAN YOUR SO-CALLED FRIENDS. At least, there are people out there who do take joy in your depression stories but comment about pray and love and care. Be your own friend, journal or blog, stop beating yourself too hard and if your own doing in the past has transformed into a guilt and is killing you secretly from within, don’t try and seek peace desperately. Let it pass through. Accept that hard feeling you feel. Yes, you might think you are the worst person in the world while others are smartly coping with their own lives, so be it! Don’t be in a rush to get there. Before giving up on yourself, think about something good you may have done to others. Even if it is a little something then there is some good in you. Your conscience is alive. Let it beat you hard but then pray to yourself, to your conscience, to guide you to do things right from now on. TRY TRY TRY before you think of leaving this plane. Because you know not what lies ahead. Maybe this suffering doesn’t end here. But what can end is your own life. Maybe you can use it to fix the wrong and help others. Sometimes they say, by doing and spreading good, you feel good. Maybe that approach is worth a shot. Been there, done that! Still look behind and now guilt is my only companion. But not for the world to know any more. I am not just a story for others, I am worth much more. Love and hugs to those who need it and are going through a tough tough phase. Let time and the situations in your life do the talking. Hang in there! even if for just a little while longer. 

Love Can Bring Evil in You! - A story of Love, Hope, Evil, Strength and Faith

Love is the strength to see beauty even when there isn’t any. The world seems like a painting that has all the colors of joy in it. But love is also a great weakness. To protect our love, we sometimes become evil or we love so much that we know no boundaries. Can I say love brings evil in you? Sure, we all know that when in love, we are the kindest and see the beauty in everything in the world. Even a beggar’s wail of sorrow on an empty stomach, trying to get some money for food by singing is heard as a melodious voice, so sweet to the ears. Our beloved’s thoughts are like religious scriptures, containing all the wisdom there is to acquire. The deeds of our beloved even when wrong are righted by our excuses and benefit of doubt imparted to their every wrongdoing. But what happens to the angel in you when your beloved is in pain?

All your happiness that is objectified in a person, all your love towards that one man or woman seems to be ending with their last breath and you cry and cry to drain out the pain, every now and then. You don’t listen to anything. You pray but feel the emptiness of trust or love or passion or anything. You just go by the day’s chores, there is a vacuum in your heart.

In this story, that very vacuum is what served as an invitation to Barbara, the spirit of a witch. But she couldn’t reside in Shyla unless she said so herself. So Barbara planted some wicked thoughts in Shyla. Shyla was empty from within. Shyla, by now, was like a baked bean can, which was used and thrown in the trash for a decade now. This was the time for rodents and other inhuman beings to reside in this can. Shyla was an empty vessel with no thoughts or desires.

Her prayers were a ritual of sorts, with only drops of hope left in them, just a bare little. Whatever was in her that kept her alive, all the emotions combined had drained from her. She was colorless and hopeless. She just wanted a miracle. And she knew that a miracle wasn’t to come. Though she was walking towards the church, but her mind wandered off in a magical, fantastical place where her dreams took shape of reality in her head still. That’s a great way nature has given us to reside in someplace else in our head, away from the pain in the real world, to survive the bad circumstances.

Enough having said about Shyla and her condition now, let’s see what Barbara did to dwell inside her. She first planted some evil thoughts in her. She made Shyla think of turning towards black magic or sacrifice of some sort. But soon, Barbara realized that Shyla could have a bad thought once but she wouldn’t execute on it. So Barbara decided to show her hope, be her hope. She is a spirit remember. Only Shyla could see her.

Barbara sat on the corner of the pavement and when she saw Shyla passes through that pavement, she called out at her. “Hello, Miss! Seeking solace! Shyla disregarded her and smiled a little meaningless smile more like a smirking sort of and left the place. After having walked the entire length of the pavement, she again spots Barbara at the beginning of the next, and she was shocked. She turned her head to see if her eyes could spot her at the place where she saw her first. But that was a long-distance and there were also some slight curves in the lane. She turned her head again to look straight and missed a heartbeat as Barbara was standing right in front of her. So close to her that their nose met. Shyla stepped back almost instinctively. She was stammering and thought of saying something but nothing occurred to her. She took to her heels and started running, fearing for life. Every lane she crossed, she found Barbara smilingly waiting for her. Finally, mustering just enough courage to ask this question, Shyla asked Barbara, “What is it that you want from me?” As if ready and waiting for that question, Barbara responded almost instantly, “I don’t want anything from you. I want to give you something. Something you desire the most?” saying so she cackled. Shyla couldn’t believe and it was evident the way her furrows met. But a sudden wave of bravery filled her lungs like a fresh waft of breath. She asked boldly, “Are you referring to Chris?”

“Yes, indeed I am!” replied Barbara.  

Shyla - C-can you help us?

Barbara - Certainly!

Shyla kneeled and with hands folded in a tight grip, she begged fervently.

Please, please help him! Cure him!

Barbara – That’s what I am here for! But you just have to pay a tiny fee.

Shyla – Fee? What fee! Kindly tell me. I am willing to do just anything.

Barbara – Then say aloud, “You allow me!”

Shyla – Allow you? For what? For helping us!

Barbara – Just say it!

Shyla said the words allowed. Barbara vanished. Shyla was left confused. She didn’t know if she had been daydreaming like she did these days because of very little food and no sleep and lots of stress. She sighed and walked towards her home.

Barbara (from within Shyla) – Now I can help you.

Shyla looked around but felt something weird within her. It’s like there was a voice recorder insider her heart. Immediately she knew she made a big mistake and the price was definitely not tiny. So she asked the voice within her, “Will you leave me someday?” To which Barbara replied, “Yes, I would but only when I have all of you.” Shyla didn’t understand that very well but understood it meant nothing good.

The rest of the walk was silent but she was just hoping that this was all a nightmare. There were tears in her eyes, rolling down to find a way through her cheeks and neck to her heart. She remembered her God and realized she was such a fool to have left that miserable vacuum inside her. Why didn’t she allow the prayers to instead light the darkest sorrowful corners of her heart? That would have been so wonderful and as if she suddenly knew how to work a miracle. Now she called upon herself yet another evil. Barbara couldn’t hear her thoughts but the pain in Shyla’s heart was what Barbara thrived upon.  

Shyla was full of answers now. She reached home and unlike every day, she headed straight to her room where she took her prayer book and started praying feverishly. Barbara didn’t like that and asked in a loud rattling voice, “Why don’t you take me to Chris? You know I can help him this instant. He will be well in no time.” Shyla chose not to respond and tried to focus really, really hard on her prayers. She knew it isn’t going to be easy. Barbara created havoc in the house, smashing and breaking things. There was a loud shriek and yell. Every time Shyla was getting scared, she tried to think of her deity, her Lord was within her.

Just then, a bird appeared at her window. This bird was unlike any other. More colorful, more rainbow-ish. Shyla wasn’t sure why she was feeling the strength on seeing the bird. She kept looking into the eyes of the bird that moved its wings time and again to settle down but all the while the bird’s eyes were fixed on Shyla’s. Shyla too experienced eye-lock with the bird. This bird seemed to be providing some inner peace and strength in Shyla.

Parallel to this scene was that of Barbara’s. She was screaming, trying to get the attention of Shyla. Shyla now all calmed down and no longer afraid, spoke to Barbara in a soft voice, “You wanted to take over me, my existence. You wanted a body. Only because though you think you have powers you don’t have any. You scare me because in fact you are scared easily. There is nothing you can do but scare me to succumb to you. I am more powerful than you. But I pity you. You may have done wrong deeds in your life to be suffering so much. But I wish I could help. I realize that I can’t.

So I order you to leave my body this instant. Barbara wailed a terrifying cry and then puff! She vanished again. But this time for good. Shyla’s calm mind and rhythmic heartbeats were gone away all with the sudden realization that Barbara could have used Chris as a vessel. She rushed into Chris’s room to find him okay. But she was sure that couldn’t be. She closed her eyes and tried to get a grip on her faith. She wanted to know if it was a miracle that Chris is now alright or is it, Barbara, in him.

Then it dawned upon Shyla that the spirit needs permission to enter into one’s body. So she was relieved. She wanted to believe a miracle had taken place after all. Faith could indeed move mountains. She brushed her worries aside and hugged Chris. Only she couldn’t feel Chris’s body. She felt like she was hugging some aura.

While Shyla was left wondering what is happening, she saw the bird yet again and this time on the window of Chris’s room. She then looked at the heart rate monitor and realized Chris was no more. Yet it was his love that gave her the strength. It was her faith that had brought back her bravery to fight the evil within her. But alas! She had to deal with the bitter truth of life, Death!  

The Guiltland

There is no one here. No one! Just me! A second ago I was a part of the crowd, at the beach, hearing laughter, chitter-chatter, the sound of the waves, and the ocean at large. Everything seemed joyous but not me. I tried to look inside me to understand what is wrong. I know that already and yet I look within me sometimes like you would when you know something is hurting you. And every time I do so, I am transported to this place where I am right now. 


This place is a dark lonely lane. The street lights are there but I feel I have lost the happiness around me. Yet it gives me the satisfaction that I am at the place I deserve. A solitary place. At least the laughter does not mock me here. I start walking on this dark lane with the support of the dim street lights. The lights flicker at first and then one by one, as I pass each of them, they break. The glass pieces scatter all around me and I tread the path, being pricked by the glass pieces again and again. My feet bleed and yet I know this is the place I deserve to be and that gives me a good feeling of sadness. 


The lights break because the evil in me cannot let the light fall on me. This is the guilt land, the land where the evil in me punishes me. My wrongdoings, the evilness in me, and the memories of the past haunt me here, this is the place I love to hate myself at and yet this is the place I find solace in, as this is what I deserve. Meet me, I am guilty and this is my guilty land. If you want it to be your neverland, treat your people with respect and love and gratitude. When you hurt someone who counts on you, who worships you, the memories of it will kill you from within and yet spare your life to suffer the suffering you gave your dear one someday.