And I write, once again.. again there is fuel, to the fire - enough for many lifetimes this time - and yet one life which may yet be cut short - ahead of its time.
I feel, once again - no longer a rock, an island - but a whirlpool of emotions - at the edge of sobbery - waiting to burst into tears.
Helpless at not being able to help the one person in this world who helped me the most, always, unconditionally and without limit. Helpless at the sheer irony of it all. Helpless at the pure liquid anger of it all.
Sitting in silences, waiting for an inevitability. Dreading the actuality of when and not if.
No one should experience this, and yet so many do - so many - all over - everywhere. Makes my fundamental atheist heart glad. There can be no god. Not for this world, of sorrow and misery and helpless ironies.
And yet, one has had time to come to grips with the helpless eventuality that is. As much of a grip as one can get with something like this. It is a gradual slide in despondent misery, but yet let us be glad of its gradual slide.
And yet, it seems almost unreal, until it is. And when it will be, would it have helped that it was gradual. Probably Not.
Maan Ne Kahaa Chhaae Ghataa
To Barase Paanii Ye Paanii Magar
Aankhon Mein Kyuun Aa Gayaa
Baadal Kahaan Chhaa Gayaa*
*Maa Ne Kaha - Zakhm - Lyrics by Anand Bakshi 1998
