To my distant stranger...
There was a time when both the the God and man lived together. Soon after His first creation of mankind, the God gifted him a box. It was closed. And the God had only one condition. "Never open the box!" The man was happy but remained curious all the time about the box. He had an itching desire to know what was there inside that mysterious box. He couldn't resist himself from opening it. After numerous sleepless nights one day he decided to open the box when God was away. Finally he opened that mighty box....There you go...and in a wink of an eye, everything inside came out one after the other and man realized his mistake and suddenly closed it...But alas!! Suddenly there was the Voice of the God. "I warned you not to open that box"! The man stood with his head down..and the God said..."now you have lost everything. Love, Wealth, Wisdom...etc. ! And now there is only one thing left in that box...HOPE!" Rest all disappeared into thin air the moment he opened the box. God punished man by sending him to earth to live with Hope..And that's how even when the last string of Hope disappears, he still Hope's...hoping for a miracle till the last iota of life sustaining molecules refuse to hold his life.
So what happens when the Hope refuses to Hope...What happens when even that final trump card slithers through your fingers and you are destined to watch that helplessly. What happens when you are even denied that option to Hope! What happens! What happens after that!!
My grandmother passed away when I was 7 years old. I hardly knew her since we lived separately. It was at midnight. Our land phone started was ringing endlessly. Dad picked up the phone and then there was a 'hush-hush' situation. Mom's eyes were as red as a blood. We started at midnight from Palakkad. Ernakulam was 4 hours distant. I did'nt understand what was happening but knew that something was wrong. That was when I first saw a death. I didnt know why all was crying and I was wondering why my granny is sleeping outside the home and that too with her thick black framed spectacles still fitted perfectly on her face, and tears in everyone's eyes...pin-drop silence...religious hymns in the background gave the whole scene a sober touch. After some I also started to cry, not because my granny passed away just because my mom was crying so badly...
After that I have seen so many deaths. My neighbour who used to play with me ended her life infront of a running train just because she failed in the 10th class examination. Another young girl in my neighbourhood got killed after she was hit by a truck while returning back home from her tution classes. That was not even her fault. And in my residential school,I stayed in the room where a 9th class student committed suicide. Her parents were divorced and she was traumatised with all that was happening with her in life. One of her parents came to school to meet her during parent's day(That's the d-day on which we can spend some time with our parents in the school premises for a stipulated time...sigh!!). Her voice still echoes in that room...and that room's door still remain un repaired, even after all these years...its a wooden door and the door still has the scratches which she made during her final moments of her life...when she was gasping for her last breath after the noose got tightened round her neck...did she cry? Was there tears in her eyes? Did she think of her mom? her dad? but why? why? why did she have to end her life? Had she been alive, she would have been 10 years elder than me.
I dont know why i am talking about death this time...may be I was always enchanted by the mystery of death...and I love it when Plath says..."Dying is an art...and I do it exceptionally well...."
Regards
N
So what happens when the Hope refuses to Hope...What happens when even that final trump card slithers through your fingers and you are destined to watch that helplessly. What happens when you are even denied that option to Hope! What happens! What happens after that!!
My grandmother passed away when I was 7 years old. I hardly knew her since we lived separately. It was at midnight. Our land phone started was ringing endlessly. Dad picked up the phone and then there was a 'hush-hush' situation. Mom's eyes were as red as a blood. We started at midnight from Palakkad. Ernakulam was 4 hours distant. I did'nt understand what was happening but knew that something was wrong. That was when I first saw a death. I didnt know why all was crying and I was wondering why my granny is sleeping outside the home and that too with her thick black framed spectacles still fitted perfectly on her face, and tears in everyone's eyes...pin-drop silence...religious hymns in the background gave the whole scene a sober touch. After some I also started to cry, not because my granny passed away just because my mom was crying so badly...
After that I have seen so many deaths. My neighbour who used to play with me ended her life infront of a running train just because she failed in the 10th class examination. Another young girl in my neighbourhood got killed after she was hit by a truck while returning back home from her tution classes. That was not even her fault. And in my residential school,I stayed in the room where a 9th class student committed suicide. Her parents were divorced and she was traumatised with all that was happening with her in life. One of her parents came to school to meet her during parent's day(That's the d-day on which we can spend some time with our parents in the school premises for a stipulated time...sigh!!). Her voice still echoes in that room...and that room's door still remain un repaired, even after all these years...its a wooden door and the door still has the scratches which she made during her final moments of her life...when she was gasping for her last breath after the noose got tightened round her neck...did she cry? Was there tears in her eyes? Did she think of her mom? her dad? but why? why? why did she have to end her life? Had she been alive, she would have been 10 years elder than me.
I dont know why i am talking about death this time...may be I was always enchanted by the mystery of death...and I love it when Plath says..."Dying is an art...and I do it exceptionally well...."
Regards
N
Well done. Too good.
ReplyDeleteLoved reading it
first i thought it'd talk of hope, but it turned and was addressing to despair.
brought out the absurdity called 'life'
thnx srijan...:)
ReplyDelete