I have no parents, I have a mother, and I have a father but no parents. In the conflicts of greater interests and in the great battles of domestic blitzkrieg I lost my parents. They must have thought I was dumb and mind numb, they must have thought I have no ears nor my eyes in-adept in the prevalent darkness, they must have thought I have not seen the fall of my family.  They must have thought I was deep asleep, wandering in dreams that every child cherish while they wage their futile battles to quench the devil’s thirst.

 

The times are tranquil now, the ominous silence persists, no more are there swearing and curses, no more the threatening sounds of apocalypse. The wounds have healed and the lines draw and as in all war we all lost. The battle has left scares deep in my heart, which no amount of time shall ever heal. What surprises me that they never felt to leave it, they left their love, they theft all the meanings that the institution of marriage held but still they have failed to leave each other and search happiness elsewhere. As much as I would love to have my family, I am not selfish, as much as the tales of evil steps trouble me; the hope for a happier life for my parents’ persists. They are perfect for each other, they know it or not, but in their frivolous pursuits of domination they doomed all hopes of happiness that the relation would ever bear. It’s sad that they would deem to that level of disgust that they could be no more stand the others presence within the same set of walls.

But, I am not sad, I am not devastated. When the days were dark and when the paths echoed with sinister forebodings. I clutched to my heart and believed in a brighter days. I took refuge among stacks of books and in the thought that ‘when winter is here can spring be far behind”. I collected my fallen self, patched what was left, made a pact with myself. I pledge myself that this is not what I shall become, I made it clear to myself that I should learn, I decided to be not like my parents when a world full of children promised to follow their parents way. I knew I would be alone and silence was my best bet, it must have hurt them bad had I took any other path. I assured myself to suffer in silence and rejuvenate when it’s all over. I went into the fade where all my sabbaticals had but two guests, me and myself.

This was an escape a less violent one, one of pure suffering and at the end the promises came true. There was spring, and there were flowers and there were butterflies. The was the fairies and there were the rainbows. But, just one sadness that I think will persist in this world of much bliss. The melancholic sense of the absence of a hand to hold on to. The poignant fact that I have no shoulder to lean on to. Out in this new world, I was to fend on my own, build it all up from scratch. But I was happy, I was peaceful.

I know that many will pity for the misfortunes I had, But I tell you don’t be. Be happy that I am what I chose to be. At the end of this very difficult choice lied one rather rare gift. The gift was the ability to let go and I think now I can after all. This blog is the final act in the rather elaborate ritual of severance.

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