A year has rolled by with lightning speed. I realised it only today when I brought out the diyas to light and then looked at the calender. Time almost seemed like a concept that is unreal, fake, cruel. Diwali has been anything but bright for me.
Last year I had wasted precious hours decorating the rangoli when the same merciless clock mocked at me and my ignorance. It was only the next day that I realised the value of those two hours I spent messing over the colours of the rangoli. And then I had a close encounter with death.
Its hard to believe that almost 11 months are over since that day.
This time i have decided to spent the day all alone. I didn't go home. In fact I dread going to Nagpur. Every visit makes me feel more hollow. It reminds me of the dusty lanes of my grandmother's house, the brick red walls of my convent school, the ancient houses of Mohan Nagar - the place which still has managed to survive in its old form, the mysteriously peaceful rich green pathways to the Seminary Hills Cemetry and the scooter rides to these places with Baba.
The last time I came to the Old City of Mohan Nagar was with him to meet his writer friend. And we had spent the afternoon in discussing literature, cinema, life, relationships.
A year since then, the place looked strangely colourless. I tried my best to strike a conservation on similar lines. But the rhythm was clearly missing. This pain and suffering of a sense of loss is much more than the mere absence of an individual. I suffered every moment...trying to meet the same people, make a fresh beginning. Sometimes there r no fresh beginnings. u just have to live with the end.
So what do u do when u r helpless? Just give up, or go with the flow? I don't even know how to give up on living. All I know is I want to give up.