A late farewell 🕊️
Trigger warning: This piece mentions suicide.
Dearest K,
Much has changed since you left us, yet much has stayed the same.
All these years, It kept me wondering what would life be like if you were still around.
K, I didn’t get to say goodbye to you. But I did. I just didn’t know it’d be the last time. I remember exactly when and where we were standing — May 2018, at the hostel gate, with tears rolling down our cheeks, we hugged tightly and knew we would make plans to see each other again. We checked our calendars…“we’ll meet soon,” you said.
3 months later, without a closure and no goodbye hug, you were gone.
I knew you weren’t happy, but, I never knew you were thinking of hurting yourself…
I was in complete denial for months and the numbness – It’s still fresh in my memory. There were days when I had these flares of rage — YOU DIDN’T DESERVE THIS — my brain screamed.
Regret? Sorrow? Voidness? Fury? Isolation? Heartache? As a bewildered 21-year-old, grappling to comprehend my emotional landscape, I found myself typing these keywords on Google, and it responded with a single phrase — ‘Post-traumatic stress disorder’ (PTSD). Funny, how Google has an answer to everything.
K, after you were gone, I realized your number was just a number in my phone book. A number that no one’s ever going to answer. My heart ached silently, realising I would NEVER get a chance to talk to you.
K, It took me a long time to picture the entire thing and longer to forgive you & myself…
Anxiety, panic attacks — I think I had all of that & realized it’s gonna come & go but things are better as of now.
K,
If you’re reading this, I want you to know that I miss you.
I miss going out for runs with you. I miss — walks till Arjan Vihar and to Jumpo Point, roasting sessions, skipping mess meals to have momos, mall hopping, dj nights in my room, your dance moves, that one night out in ‘HKV’ & then to Bangla Sahib. Remember, our ‘adda point’ is our point & ours only. Movie nights, camp days, the mutual love for basketball, I remember every bit of it…I hope you do too.
A year after your departure, I had questions. Many million unanswered questions. Both my head & heart seemed chaotic. Many months later, the stifled grief began to surface, finding its way through writing. In my silent era, I tried penning it down.
A little something I wrote in 2019 –
तुम्हारी क्या मज़बूरिया रही होंगी,
समझने की बहुत कोशिश की,
किस्मत कहु या बदकिस्मती, जानती नहीं,
सच्च ये हैं की मैंने तुम्हें खो दिया हैं…अक्सर शाम होते ही मन कुछ डूब सा जाता हैं,
ये जो दिल-ए-दर्द है — शायद इसका कोई इलाज नहीं,
इतनी दूरी, किसने सोचा था?
इस धरती-इंसानो से दूर कहीं चाँद-सितारों में…
बहुत दूर चली गयी हो तुम…ये तमाम लोग,
दिल्ली से ग्वालियर,
तुम्हे रोज़ याद करते हैं,
कभी-कभी लगता है तुम यही तो हो…
पर सच्च ये हैं की हमने तुम्हें खो दिया हैं…ये उलझी सी एक पहेली है,
करिश्मा,
किस-किस को समझाऊ तुम कितनी याद आती हो…
किस-किस को बताऊ मैंने तुम्हें खो दिया हैं…
K,
I regret not answering your call that day. I wish I could have helped you change your mind.
K,
I will go on through life – I don’t know until when, carrying some traces you left in my life, and while we all age, you will stay young & lively forever in our memories.
K,
I’m looking at the moon,
Praying for you, free bird.
I love you,
With all my heart.
🕊️
