Moving on...

Was reading a movie review of "Ranjhaana", a love story set in Varanasi. I haven't seen the movie yet, probably will this week.

This note is however inspired by the movie review I read here. I quote a line from the review which caught my attention,

"Lesson#8 : “Nobody really moves on in life: This is because of the simple reason that a person molds you into a new being when you are with them. So when they move out of your world, they take away that part of you with them and it never comes back leaving you void from within and too exhausted to walk on the same path again."

I agree in parts - yes, we change with every relationship. We become something which is us plus something when we are in a relationship. This is true for all relationships, in my view. We are different with a parent, different with a son, different with a friend, different with a sibling and so on. I would go so far as to say that we have different selves that manifest themselves, depending upon whom we are with. And in a love relationship, we are completely transformed. We may sometimes not even recognize the self that we become when we fall in love.

However, this post is not about love, but about moving on, having been in love. I disagree that one does not move on. Yes, we never become that person that we were when we were in love. But we do fall in love again, and though we don't become the previous-person-who-was-in-love-with-the-previous-love-interest, we morph into a different human with the person we now have fallen in love with. Yes, every death of selves that we face hurts, hurts really really bad. But we can and are capable of creating new selves even out of the debris that is left behind. For many of us, the debris is small, so some of us can rebuild from it with some help from the discarded self. For some of us, the debris is large, but if we love ourselves well enough to piece together the debris and the smaller self, we can even glue together a bigger self from the experience.

Notwithstanding the moving on, I do think there is always this "what if" question that plays out in in the minds of the "Mover" and the "Movee" - for want of better words. I think both of them, the Mover and the Movee, wrestle with the "what-if" in their post breakup times. Several times. Regardless of who initiated the break up. The mover will wonder what if she hadn't moved on to look for something better, could she have been happier? Was she is the reason, or was it that the movee did not love enough and hence gave up the pursuit so soon. The movee on the other hand, may wonder if the mover was indeed the best, and whether maybe the movee is better off without her. He may also wonder on the reasons why he gave up pursuit when he did. Was it because she really wasn't quite "the" person? Was his pursuit an exercise of being in love for the sake of being in love? Invariably, after several years after the love episode, the mover and the movee will wonder what they saw in the other that caused the affair. Was the other person even worthy of the love? Was it because the person was ready for love at that particular point and the other person happened to be there, and hence love occurred, much like the bards Midsummer Nights Dream. It may happen that they want to fall in love all over again with the same person! (And that what I guess the Reviewer of Ranjhaana was talking about)

However, such what-if reveries would also largely depend upon the manner of the breakup itself, from the time event when the breakup begins, and then the event itself, followed by the process of moving-on. Ah, but thats perhaps for another post!

The Blindfold of Pride

There are times when our pride blindfolds us to our own pain, and refuses to have it shared with others, who could help.

Pride over the ability to take pain can turn toxic and cause self-destruction.

The Relentless March of Time

Time is relentless. It marches on, with nary a thought about the debris it leaves behind. Just goes on and on and on.

There was a time when I loved to dance. And then there was a time when I could not dance anymore as I needed to train myself for earning money. I thought I would not be able to do anything if I could not dance. But I did do things - not perfect, not soul stirring, but marketable. I did not dance again. Time marched on. Unrelenting.

There was a time when I built the castle of my life on someone's shoulder. And then, there was a time when the shoulder collapsed and died. I thought I would never be able to build again. But I did. First a shanty, then a hovel, and now a house. Not the perfect abode, but a shelter nevertheless. Time marched on. Unstopping.

There was a time when I loved someone. And then, there was a time when he walked away. I thought I would not be able to breathe without him. But I breathed. And made eyes at other men, lusted for them - not lovers but wayfarers and companions. I did not love again. Time marched on. Uncaring.

There was a time when I birthed someone and fed the blood of my womb to her. And then, there was a time when the womb turned back on her and killed her. I thought I would never eat again if it was not to feed her. But I did. I ate, nourished my guilty womb. Not to fill up my breasts with milk - but to fill the bowels with excrement and piss, and give energy to body to survive. Time marched on. Unseeing.

There was a time when I befriended someone and laughed, dreamed and worked together. And then there was a time when the friend betrayed to save some money, and then turned into a foe. I thought I would never share a dream and joke again. But I did. I laughed and joked and broke bread together with people. Not with a friend, but with acquaintances, neighbors and relatives. Not that they got half the jokes, but we laughed together. Time marched on. Unfazed.

There was a time when I wanted to create something of beauty. And then there was a time when I broke my knuckles, hurt my eyes, and I could create no more. I thought I would never want to work again. But I did. I worked to build things which could sell, be branded and be useful. Not beautiful, not pretty - but they were things people wanted and paid money for. Time marched on. Unmindful.

There was a time when I wanted to be a soulmate to someone. And then there was a time when I realized that he did not need a soulmate, but a flatmate. I thought I would never do soul-talk again. But I did. I bared my soul to him in the hope he would someday listen to my soul. He did not listen, nor care. I settled to being a flat mate. Time marched on. Inexorable.

And there will be time when I will cease to exist. when this compromised life, such as it is, will be snuffed out. And then, there will be no more time to build the glorious life I knew I could have had. I will dissolve into nothingness, with my dreams and thoughts and stories and loves and betrayals still in my bones. The bones will be burnt and cast away into the streams and rivers and fields. Time will continue to march on. For others. Unaffected.

On Valentines Day

TOTD:

There are two loves that you should never abandon quest of:
1. Find a person to love unconditionally, without ego, with full abandon. In the rare case of having found someone, make EVERY effort to keep her/him. And if you do happen to be with the person you love, rejoice every minute!
2. Find work that you love doing. Again, in the rare case of having found what you love doing, do it - without thinking of reward, its social payoff, its monetary reward, its acceptance in the world. Just do it.

But first, be the person who can love. By choosing to love, you allow yourself to be vulnerable. Fulfillment only comes to the vulnerable and the needy. It may take a while to come, but every effort spent in seeking fulfillment is worth it. It can be terrifying, giving yourself permission to love. Be of courage.

Love is the only thing that makes life worthwhile.

Long shadows

TOTD: Some people have long shadows. There are no warning signs of their arrival in your life. When they go, they leave long shadows. Some dark ones and some light ones. Some may even impact your life by changing its route forever.

You can only see the dark shadowy ones when you peer back into your periods of darkness, and recognize them for who they were, and what they did to you. Amazingly, you continue to feel for the dark shadowy ones in the same way as you did when you let them into your life and allowed them to impact you. Even now when you know they were dark for you, you continue to ache for them, rationalizing what they did to you with reasons that you find easy to accept.

Ah, the deceptions that a human mind practices on itself!

Happy Birthday

Happy Birthday, Sumi! If you had lived, you would have been seventeen today.

I am sorry that I could not give you the chance that you needed to live, survive and thrive. I am sorry that my womb pushed you out in this hostile world some 90 days before you were fully formed and ready. I am sorry that I could not save you from the Psuedomona Bacillus, even though we all tried so hard. I am sorry that you could never suckle at my breast, though I did manage to feed you with expressed milk. I am sorry that you suffered pain due to my efforts to save you. I know those needles and tubes must have hurt you - I am sorry, child, I truly am.

I am sorry that I trusted your doctor too much and did not seek a second opinion. I am sorry that I once plonked you in the bed hard when you were crying so much. I was tired darling, and I hadn't slept for nights, but thats a sorry excuse. I should not have done that.

I am sorry I did not fight with your father to buy you the finest and the nicest clothes to dress you up in. I never thought you would go away. I thought I would have time enough to dress you up and play with you, baby...

I am sorry that the world including me, was too hostile, for someone defenseless like you, with your gentle heart and soul.

It seems to me that you only came to tell me, your mother that she was capable of bearing a child, and that her womb, uterus and breasts had a greater purpose than mere lust. Though none of them served you in any way. I could do nothing but harm you, my child, and not a day goes by when I do not curse myself for having been the instrument of such destruction to you.

You now have a younger sister, darling. She will be 15 this October. She is not born of the same unlucky womb that you were born from. She fills up the void that you left, darling, but not the place of my heart which you filled. You are forever in my heart, sweetie.

Stay well, wherever you were, darling. I know you are there somewhere in the universe. I hope the new place where you find yourself is better than the one you found with me. I know you will never want to meet me, in this universe and in your other lives, given the way I treated you in this world. I understand, my child. And I am sorry, from the bottom of my being.