Life goes on…

There is something about life that makes it so interesting. What seems inescapable and irresistible on day, suddenly becomes dispensable the next. At the very least, we learn to accept that it is no longer a part of our lives and move on. But sometimes, the memories linger. Sometimes these memories are delightful, pleasing and reassuring. At other times, they are bittersweet, hurtful and depressing. How convenient it would be that God, who has given us all the power to forget, also gave us the power to choose what we want to forget. Alas, this is not the case. We can hardly decide what we want to remember and what we don’t. If only that were possible…

Over the last week, I have been overrun by memories…some good, some bad and some entirely forgettable. Maybe the problem is that I have had entirely too much time on my hands. With S in not-so-far-away Colombo, I find my evenings to be interminable. I can’t fall asleep before midnight, being compulsively nocturnal, and this gives me too much time to think. To think of things I should not be thinking of. Like the time, all those years ago, when the only thing that mattered was the next mid-semester long test. Like the time when Nandini would scream on top of her lungs, one foot inside the classroom and one foot outside, “May I come in Ma’am?” At the memory, I can’t seem to stop my tears. It’s been four long years since I realized I would never hear that voice again. At this point, I wish things could be different. I wish she wasn’t on that fated vehicle that day. I wish she could be here with me doing my wedding shopping, helping me choose my saris and my clothes. I wish…

Memories can also be delightful. They give you the power to move on with life. They help you stay positive during the worst times of your life. My memories of college, of Paris, of the time spent on long drives with S just a few weeks ago…they all make me believe that life is good. That you never actually face more problems that you can handle. I almost cannot believe I can be so happy. When I think of life after marriage, I know it will be good. Despite the jitters, the nervousness and the deep-seated fears of the unknown, there is a hope. No…scratch that. Hope implies a certain measure of doubt. I do not hope. I believe that all will be well. It has to.

To take my mind off memories and fears, I went back to what I know best. Reading. On an impulse, I went and bought 4 books from Odyssey on Friday night. The thought of spending a weekend with nothing to do was too much to handle. Looks like I chose right. Halfway through my first book I realized that this is precisely what kept me sane all these years. This, and writing. So, here I am. Back doing what I love most. Reading book after book. And writing about love, life and everything else!

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