Wild Thoughts

Saturday, November 04, 2017

On love

"I just want to marry and settle down with the person who's written the script for Thor Rangnarok."

"Maybe settle with someone here."

"If it's a woman then I'll settle for Tom Hiddlestone."

"It's good to know you're fluid like that."

"I just want to marry the person who's written the film. It's so bloody witty."

"In your head you're living a Yash Raj Film but I have a feeling this will end in a Crime Patrol episode script."

On grief

My friend Momo is usually the first person who I reach out to when something goes down in my life. For a man who knew me for under a month, he's my rock across the world. When Circuit died, he was the only one I texted to inform, while I was walking home from work.

Momo lost his dog earlier today. Pola had been with him for the last 17 years. That's a long fucking time to call someone family. Pola's demise isn't the only setback he has faced. In under a week he's found out the love of his life has moved on from their erstwhile relationships, his parents were mugged in broad daylight at a gun point where in they lost their car.

When I heard, that was the first in days when I got myself to feel something, tears dwell in my eye kind of feeling. I got myself to speak to him. I don't think it helped a bit but the only thing that came to my mind is a hearty combination of what some of the people said to me while offering condolences. Two things struck out- one that Pola and Circuit would be together in doggy heaven (if there's one) and that our lives have been positively impacted by their good memories, hence we must live them out.

Grief is contagious. Ever since I spoke to Momo, I've felt drained, like I'm dragging my body but the brain has shut itself.

On melancholy

There's a girl next door, Diya, the daughter of our neighbour's security guard. I meet her daily when I return from work. Disha should be under 2 years of age, and is perhaps the  only child who I eagerly look forward to seeing. She doesn't speak a word. However, whenever she sees me, she comes running, shakes my hand and then greets me with folded hands. Having been uncharacteristically disturbed by the folded hand greeting since I was a child, Diya has learnt to accommodate my High-Fives instead. Her mum insists that she greets me with folded hands. Pavlovian conditioning in exchange of candies has taught her otherwise.

The day Circuit died, I reached home to find my sibling, all her friends and my parents in the veranda with his cold body. He stayed lifeless, looking like he's in pain and definitely nothing like how I want to remember him. It was a tough sight to soak in.

Diya walked in from the back gate which was ajar. Stood with us in complete silence, alternating with staring at his dead body and our faces. She's not the happiest baby but definitely extremely satisfied. That day she looked confused. Why were we all gathered around this dog and why was the dog laying without moving.

It occured to me how difficult is the idea to introduce death to the kids. I don't remember much on how I was conditioned or if I could give you a feedback on whether it's okay to introduce kids to "death". I would say let's never begin by explaining death to your child mentioning how you could make them meet their already dead relatives. It's a terrible idea.

I digress, but Diya was an equal participant in witnessing the end of Circuit with me. Perhaps the only one. My parents and sibling had each other. I had Diya's confused face, that's what I will remember his last day to look like.

Each time she runs towards our gate when I'm exiting, I'm compelled to meet her, say hello, greet her with a candy and try to forget that she's seen me in my most intimate moment. You're never as truthful to another as you're when you're facing a family death.

Diya forged a bond with me. She unknowingly saw me through something so personal that no loved one in my life did. Whatever it is, I'll live with Diya being the sane out of the two after having lived through that.

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