Death crossed my path too early. I didn’t react. I was a kid then.
Fortunately.
In the next few years, I started meeting him in the next door, in my relations’ faces, in my own house, in the newspaper, in the railway station, in the third rail of metro, in the condolence of my beloved teacher. I met him while coming back from school, in a garage, when one tired soul thought it was enough! He was so much tired.
Soon it became my enemy, taking my nearest one. I lost the first battle of my life. It was a meek surrender. I consoled myself - it was a traitor. It made me a pessimist. It taught me to cry aloud in between so many unknown faces. And then it made me realize tears are nothing but wastage.
You tend to get used to ‘everything’ with your age. So did I. So did you as well. But on one alcohol-influenced evening suddenly you ask yourself - what is death? Is it only the seizure of the biological pump and some chemical reactions on some nodes in your head? Doesn’t it include the face of the military on all the battlegrounds? Doesn’t it resemble my friend’s face on Nine Eleven? Isn’t it Tsunami? Yes it is! It is my motherland when neighbors in a city start thinking relationships cease to exist on religious inclination.
Death is in the history of all the uprooted refugees. On one fine day you come to know that the place you were dwelling for the last so many years has been rendered to a different country and you are no longer welcome in your own fatherland. You have to leave the place. At the age of 6 you became refugee. Before leaving your country, which is no longer yours, you etch your pet name on the trunk of a big tree in the hope of coming back one day to see that the etchings have grown up, just like you. And you never ever go back. Dead are those hopes. Death is in my voice when I stopped thinking. Death is in my inaction. Death is the last flame. Death is the ritual. Death is the formality.
Dead are my dreams. Death is in my nightmare.
Fortunately.
In the next few years, I started meeting him in the next door, in my relations’ faces, in my own house, in the newspaper, in the railway station, in the third rail of metro, in the condolence of my beloved teacher. I met him while coming back from school, in a garage, when one tired soul thought it was enough! He was so much tired.
Soon it became my enemy, taking my nearest one. I lost the first battle of my life. It was a meek surrender. I consoled myself - it was a traitor. It made me a pessimist. It taught me to cry aloud in between so many unknown faces. And then it made me realize tears are nothing but wastage.
You tend to get used to ‘everything’ with your age. So did I. So did you as well. But on one alcohol-influenced evening suddenly you ask yourself - what is death? Is it only the seizure of the biological pump and some chemical reactions on some nodes in your head? Doesn’t it include the face of the military on all the battlegrounds? Doesn’t it resemble my friend’s face on Nine Eleven? Isn’t it Tsunami? Yes it is! It is my motherland when neighbors in a city start thinking relationships cease to exist on religious inclination.
Death is in the history of all the uprooted refugees. On one fine day you come to know that the place you were dwelling for the last so many years has been rendered to a different country and you are no longer welcome in your own fatherland. You have to leave the place. At the age of 6 you became refugee. Before leaving your country, which is no longer yours, you etch your pet name on the trunk of a big tree in the hope of coming back one day to see that the etchings have grown up, just like you. And you never ever go back. Dead are those hopes. Death is in my voice when I stopped thinking. Death is in my inaction. Death is the last flame. Death is the ritual. Death is the formality.
Dead are my dreams. Death is in my nightmare.
She expired yesterday.
ReplyDeleteHI, FRIEND!
ReplyDeleteHOW'S YOUR LIFE GOING?
WELL, TRY TO GUESS...
I MISS YOU!
;^)
Hope every thing is well. I was taken aback by your comment on death. I was not expecting it. If you dont mind my asking who expired yesterday?
ReplyDeleteNikki
Nikki, nice to see u bk after quite a long time. Howz life? I was going through a bad phase that pt of time. One of my cousins expired "yesterday"...
ReplyDeletetor lekhata khub hit korlo re. ajkei dekhlam tor blog ta... mbai blast er khobor (!) shune monta shokal theke kharap hoye royeche... reality shoudlnt be so cruel especially when it is manmade..
ReplyDeleteReality is always cruel. Be it man made, or gifted by Your God. Ei post ta was one of the most spontaneous one. kichu na vebe lekha. kintu pore seser kotha gulo (dead are my dreams, death is in my nightmare) amakei haunt korchilo..
ReplyDeleteOne small request -- plz put your signature when you post/reply to the blogs..otherwise its a bit difficult to find out your identity.
thx for visiting..
subhamoy
July 12 th er post ta ami likhechilam.. Suvra.
ReplyDelete