Archives of memories lingering like some serious episodes had now become cliché…. Creation of guilt with an unconscious pessimist touch had now become surreal… Death, an impeccable truth of life and a whole new level of meaninglessness had now become a physical hurt…. ( yup I know, you’re like what the heck is going on….but just relax and listen)
Death, though a bizarre truth of life yet throws immense light to show us all of life’s meaning. 14th July 2019, my grandma’s death. Not many dulcet words to describe, but if I had to briefly summarise the whole incident with one simple ideology then “painful” will be it. To call it just a memory will be a colossal mistake. Unlike any other memory this one was specially seasoned with guilt, not to mention ill fate being the icing on the cake.
Going by the conformist saying, “if something has to go wrong, it will go wrong”. Yup, it did. Bullous pemphigoid, a rare skin disease with no treatment (at least that’s what they say) and ultimately leading to death occurs to one in a million. This time my granny was the one. While she crept into this horrendous disease, a trail of negative changes had begun in me. In no time I had started opting for darkness, loosening the threads of our relation. Not keeping the strings attached had led to the creation of a venomous sentiment (aka guilt). Its perpetual darkness had slowly become parasitic and I was now its host. Losing her made me familiar with my inner crisis and how the stains (aka guilt, hopelessness, fear and all emotions put together) had become immortal.
Guilt of not being able to thank her, of not being amiable during the end of her days, of making her believe that I was not the same person anymore. Perhaps this peculiarly unknown growth had now made me disparate. Hence, her death proved to be the clearest before/after point in my life. Pre-tragedy: failing to portrait myself, to payback love, to face melancholic scenarios of life……. post-tragedy: succeeding to portrait thyself, to showcase love, to face tough scenarios of life…. Yup, Incredible how a small sentiment could become so much potent to bring such a persuasive transition to one’s identity ( because change, my friends, is not an elementary thing). This time I was able to hijack the lost me ( a place ironically of lost hopes). Amazing how the “after death combat” could make my heart’s identity so painfully black and blue. Experienced by losing the dearest, I had moved to the second level. This level educated me on the only astringent certainty of life ( aka death). Fascinating how such a bitter truth could give such dulcet meaning to its existence.
And in the voice of an experienced old brat I speak…
Remember, this world feeds on two types of people branched into two wings. The left wing dealing with the average or above average rich brats and the right dealing with the lower average poor brats. But what’s important for you to know here is that these two branches conjoin to form a solitary arm, that only and only leads to death. This is the only truth that I can be absolutely certain and promising about ( the wound probably not healable but pain always being the winsome topping to life and its ways ). Sitting on this side of the screen, I’d like to conclude this “i-am-mature” narrative of mine by being an “immense pessimist ideology carrying sicko” on the following because ladies and gentlemen, death is not a sanguine event of life. But speaking on the sunny side, remarkable how such impeccable meaninglessness could boil down to the most supreme meaning of life’s origin.
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