The Days that I Fear

Grandson playing with his grandfather
It had happened at last, I knew it would come one day. The haunting realities of old age makes it impossible to forego. I knew it would happen it would only be a matter of time. The truth is that upsets me is not that it happened but I was not here by his side when it happened. I was not here to catch him when he fell, I was not here to sit by his side when he was lying in the hospital bed, and I was not here to take flowers and fruits to cheer him up.  It strikes me hard and I can’t forgive myself for making him be all alone when he needed me the most.
When I woke up yesterday, it was a beautiful day; a day like any other. The day was not meant to be anything other than what I have been planned. It was supposed to be an all holes barred canister of monotony but the heavens had plans that were greater than mine. When I reached home after a meticulously planned day which was executed to perfection, I was confronted with a rather off handed remark from my aunt. She enquired whether I knew about my grandfather been taken for a ‘service’.  All I could respond with was a rather confused look and a big question mark hovering over my head.

Grandfather, Great Spirit, once more behold me on earth and lean to hear my feeble voice.
Black Elk


I was to be at the receiving end of some very shocking news. While I was away in my college worrying about my petty exams a whole lot had happened here. One day my grandfather felt dizzy and almost collapsed, My mother and aunt tried sugar solution thinking that it was a drop in his sugar level, then the called a doctor who lives across the street, she came in and did some preliminaries and then they called my uncle who is a doctor and he was quick to recommend a hospital and insisted that they take him there instantly. He was admitted in Intensive Care Unit and was under observation for three days and a hoard of test was being conducted on him. All this while I was laughing, joking and partying with my friends, unaware of anything that was going on in my hostel.  I despise myself.
Grandson visiting his grandfather
Photo by     Corbis Super RF 
All my life my grandfather was there for me, when I took my first steps , when I passed my first class, when I was not able to sleep and when I was down with a fever. He would come to me from anywhere he was. Je would abandon all that was important and come to me sit by me and care for me  and now when he was sick and tired where was I? Writing exams of no real significance in life? I was doing things that I could have written at some other time and passed with the same ease. No body informed me what had happened and nobody told me that something was wrong and I did not feel it, I should have felt it when he was sick. I should have. He does so should I shouldn’t I? My grandfather had asked everyone not to tell me anything.

“…there is no grandfather who does not adore his grandson.”
Author: Victor Hugo



Now I know not what to do, Should I be angry at him for not telling me anything or should I be happy that he is alright? Should I be making a tantrum about why not me? Or should I just be ‘adult’ about it. But one thing is sure if at all anything happens to him which I believe will not and I am not here by his side holding his hands during his last few moments in life I know I will not forgive myself ever. 

Speak of the Devil and ..

How strange that I write this today, when all I see is darkness and I am tired, so tired of searching for the light and hope. I am doomed, I fear my own words and I fear the death of myself by my own ideas. Its not but strange that a few days ago I was blossoming in the comfort of the illusion of security and permanence that I have woven. But now in seconds they have disappeared and I am staring at nothing but darkness all around, I can hear memories sneak up me from directions unknown, I am afraid, really afraid.
A couple of day ago, I got a call, a call that has turned my world into a mess. From the precipice of luxury I plunged into a feeble being plagued by misery and fear, I can’t neither think straight nor respond to a door bell without being paranoid. It has come back, It has come back to avenge me, the lies, the secrets. My past has come back, a past that I have worked so hard day and night to forget, The nightmares that I have consciously abolished with sleepless nights and pills that I shall not speak of again in my life.
It is not strange, I should have expected it, I should have known better. I should have known that it will come back and haunt me again and again no matter how hard I run. The initial impulse is always to run, But now I know no mountain is high enough, no oceans wide enough to keep me from myself. I am my worst enemy, a nemesis that will not heed until truly defeated. I have to take action, I have to face him, I cannot run anymore, If I do I will risk more than myself, I will risk losing my family, my friends, my life and may be those some things that I have valued more than life, I will lose myself to it. I cannot run anymore I have to face him, face to face, I should look him in the eye and end this once and for all, otherwise I will lose it all, I will lose everything.

I shall not speak about it again, But I should talk now, if have to never speak of it again, else the devil will come back to haunt me again, it won’t heed till I pay for my insolence. I should face my fate and write my history myself, even if it means that it all ends with a full stop or if there is something left to it, then with that, But I should do it and I should do it now.

Breaking Away . . .

Severance is a pain that we all invest in. Every day, every hour, Year after year we live in its shadow. It’s not something we choose it’s something that’s forced upon us. Yet chose not to rebel, we conveniently forget to fight, we take it on our shoulder and bear with it with finesse. The matter is delicate often so delicate that acknowledging it in itself is a herculean task in itself. The pain and anxiety that it causes is great, yet we decide it’s not time to give up hope yet.
It causes immense pain, but why do me, you and everyone we know prefer to live with it and fear the freedom the lack of these chains offer. Why does freedom, boundless and absolute, of colors more vibrant than the rainbows scare us? Why do we prefer the strong yet ephemeral fortitudes to the wonderful world of boundless possibility?  These are not the questions we ask ourselves every day; these are the question we come across in those times that we are truly left on our own. These are question we ask when we truly at our weakest. These are questions we ask when we lose those things we endured all those torture for. These are the questions we ask when we actually realize the transience of our ‘Perfect World’. The questions are harmless in a way, but they are the ones that truly know when to strike.

But no matter how many time we come across, other than those few who turn unacceptable to the society finds their way back into the cobwebs of comfyness they have already knitted for them. They find their way back as the lost ant finds it way back into the swarm. The allure and pseudo -opulence this world offers seems to surpass the many flaws it seems to possess.  We never even bother to ask ourselves whether this is what they want. Is there heart to torn open again and again? Is the abyss the best place they can ever afford to have?
Then again, is that the case? Even when you feared the inevitable, there was hope, there was pleasure and there was happiness. The little things in life that many preach, Aren’t they the ones that make life worthwhile. Life many not be perfect, in fact life may not be even fair, yet there are those moments in life that gives joy sans boundaries. Aren’t we living for those few moments, aren’t we working hard in the day so that we could return to the loving families. Don’t those weekends with the family make as pray every hour for the week to get over. Be it the sip of coffee or that one game, Aren’t they what we live for? Yes there are perils, there are dangers and there are evil lurking in every corner, yet don’t we live for that all these, these few little things that make life worth living?
But remember one thing dear friends, There is a better; life out there, there is a life where we can have the best of both worlds. There is a life were we do not have to make compromises and yet live the life that we dream of every single day. Believe me when I say there is a life where you don’t have to make up excuses to keep the family together. There is a life where love and fear, pleasure and sin, happiness and crime and Life and Lies do not come in pairs.
A Lone Man’s Journal: Rupertt Aryeen WInd