Monday, September 19, 2011

A year older, A year wiser – a blogger’s realization that time, in fact, heals all

What is the most common free advice you get when you are down?

-          Time is the best healer”

This has to be the universal counsel for people going through a low point in their lives. One phrase, translated in probably all the languages in the world, ending with a wise smile and a nod from the adviser. And every receiver of this free bit of good will has different phrases going on inside of them, all which basically reflect on one idea – “Wait till it happens to you, JERK!”

Thankfully, I have come to a point in my journey, where I can have a say in this matter. I have, like the rest of us, always given free advices at will. In fact, this is something every person is capable of. I have, of course, used the widespread phrase Time is the best healer many a times, but the beauty of our world is that Aristotle was right; The Earth is, in fact, round. What goes around, unfortunately, comes around and about a year ago, the positions had changed.

Last September, sadly, my life got jeopardized and instantly I was receiving back, with interest, every goddamn bit of valuable advice I ever gave. But even though the frustration and sadness is one’s own to bear, knowing that people around are trying to help, somehow makes you feel less vulnerable. But all the same, I was beginning the journey which I felt had no end; I honestly believed, at that moment in my life, that I’d never ever be okay again.

A lot of things changed about me. Sadly, I almost gave up blogging. There was nothing worthwhile happening in my life and nothing to write about, I was having a hard time surviving that torrid first month. Thankfully, it was the best time of the year next (Durga Puja) and the fun I had with my close friends was out of the world. I realized how important my friends were to me. But I was still going through the roller coaster ride of emotions and that was when I wrote Moving On. That was the time of teeth grinding restrain and a desperate urge to move on. But moving on is never that easy. I had yet to learn that you cannot force yourself to move on; rather, you have to let it happen to you.

It seems, at that moment, like all the freaking desires of your whole life seem to be hell bent on breaking your will. But with time, being alone becomes a habit. You thrive in the solitary situation life has thrown you into, the darkness feels good. Also, with each day passing, your hopes are weaning out; you begin to realize that, the call you are patiently waiting for is never coming, your email(s) will never be replied to, and no one is going to give you a surprise visit. No matter how much you wonder, there are no explanations, life leaves lots of queries unanswered. It is during this time you look back at the sweeter parts of yester years. Memories are cruel sometimes, but sometimes, you need to look back at the good things too. Once you begin to look back and smile, realization is slowly creeping into you. My nascent stage of understanding life came out in 8. And from then on, with every passing day, things have been different.

Have you ever looked back at the things that happened in a past year? In this last year, I watched maybe a hundred movies, listened to thousands of songs, googled, buzzed, facebooked, twitted, even blogged a little, all under varied degrees of despair. I disturbed few of my good friends a lot and made 2 of my closest friends go through un-believable stages of my depression without complaining. I watched my only friend in Guwahati fight brain cancer and survive. I caught a glimpse of my Aunt in an artificial respirator after her heart surgery and saw her recover by the day. And I opened up to Maa like never before. My whole world went from one end to other in a span of 12 months. And as time passed, I looked back and felt all the negative memories fade.

I do not know if I’ve actually moved on, for strange things make me feel strange sometimes even now. But I have to say last September, I thought I was heading for the end of the world and yet, this September, I feel fresh and significant; I feel a year older and a year wiser. Movies don’t help, neither does music. Manchester United winning helps a lot, but one loss jeopardizes all the good work. Nothing helps, except perhaps, having a desire to wait patiently and knowing that time is the best healer. Moving on happens when the time is right.

Even with the understanding of time’s healing powers, I have learnt my lesson with free advice, I no longer use that age old classic phrase, instead I take a couple of inspirations from Guns ‘n Roses and tell them Nothing lasts forever, everything good or bad eventually comes to an end, all we need is just a little patience.

Tuesday, March 8, 2011

8


I was thinking that the number 8 has been unlucky for me recently.
But why? When I first started following Manchester United, Nicky Butt used to clad the number 8 jersey. Not my most favorite player in the world, but he did what was required from him. In came one Wayne Rooney to take over the number 8 and hit the right chord in me. When he moved on to number 10, Anderson took over the number 8. That is one for the future.
I tried harder, had to be something worse. But no matter how deep I went, there seemed to be nothing wrong with the number 8, except of course, for 8th March, International Woman’s Day.
You might be tempted to think what could be wrong about the day, but 8th March has actually been a memorable day in my life. It was the day I first confessed my feelings to the only girl I ever fell in love with. I proposed and got disposed, sadly. But, with some divine intervention probably, what followed was a memorable 8 years together, which unfortunately could not proceed to the 9th. So now, the ghost of 8 haunted me, banishing the number 8 forever as ill fated.
As the date approached this year, suddenly I was losing all my restraint. I was turning into an immature lump of overflowing hormones and hyperactive heart. To make matters worse, Manchester United lost two consecutive matches away to Chelsea and Liverpool on 1st March and 6th March. United had just lost two matches prior to that all season. Even East Bengal started losing matches suddenly, after staying unbeaten and untouchable for so long.  This made me realize how my passion for football was helpful in keeping the blues at bay for all these months. This was it, I realized. I was doomed.
As I always do, I turned to two of my closest friends. He was excited, because the rival supporter bugger long hibernating inside him was making victory laps now and why not. His team Arsenal was in contention for a first league title win in probably 9 long years and also Mohan Bagan supporters always enjoy East Bengal losing (and vice versa). After exchanges of our full vocabulary of swear words, I hung up on him. She was more supportive and listened to me, advised me and showed me the brighter side as we talked at lengths. Both made me feel better in their own special ways for the time being, but I knew the inevitable was just around the corner.
Yet with time, things change. You forget all the bad memories, nightmares fade. Only the goodness of a person persists. I looked back at that day and smiled now. It all happened so fast. So many essential parts of the day that shaped my life was long gone. My Hero Bicycle, who was part of that ride to ecstasy and then agony, was stolen 2 years later. The 3 poems I had written and delivered, which said all I wanted to say and a lot more, never came back to me. The princess who was once mine, how nervous She was that day..
It’s funny how some things work out and some don’t. It is funny how taking separate roads makes for such an intense, ever-changing emotional journey. You start with hatred, wrath, take a U-turn to sadness, despair and agony and finally, realization hits you slowly. Then you just smile, because you know you have spent some unforgettable moments with a special person, you have had a good time and that shall forever remain that way.
So on 8th March this year, ironically, I broke my numerical 8 jinx. Instead, I closed my eyes and went back to that day, that noon, the copying of the verses on a clean paper with my best handwriting. That wait for the indication that school was over, that afternoon ride on my violet-blue double shock-absorber Hero Rock-shock. This time, I felt the wind blow into my face, I saw people on both sides of the road, I realized I had missed so much in the excitement of the moment. I turned a corner, and there she was, walking back from school alone, that grey and white dress…

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