Long after the New Year’s get-together got over and friends left,
I stood close to the embers of the fire we’d danced around, that final night of
the year. As the time went by, the embers cooled down, only occasionally glowing
brighter as a gust of wind rekindled life into them.
My past is but an ember, destroyed and discarded remnant of
the bygone, refusing to die down. Relationships that were unwillingly brushed
aside, calls that were never made, meetings that never materialized, letters
that were never sent and regrets of not having done enough. What went by, never
really left though. Everything simply deposited itself perpetually and became a
part of my existence, a burden that has mellowed me down over the years. I feel
overwhelmed and at the same time emptied.
The ache of being left alone, being purged out of someone’s
life is not unfamiliar to me. The injury is capable of leaving one irreversibly
incapacitated, I am grateful I survived the ordeal. Along the way, it made me
more compassionate; I became more and more willing to lend a shoulder to lean
upon, a hand to hold onto. And at times when I felt weak, I still let someone
hold my hand, for their belief that they had me brought me the courage to
persist. I look at myself in the mirror, I stare into my kohl-rimmed eyes and I
know how far I have come from the person I used to be.
It seems as if the void that is left behind when one decides
to move away diminishes with time, instead it stays with oneself through the
days and the nights. It’s like the voice of the conscience which can be
repressed but can never be obliterated. I try to compensate the loss, the
hollowness, only to realize that every person has left an imprint on my soul
which no one else will ever be able to fill in for.
Every day brings with itself new beginnings and myriad
possibilities of what tomorrow will be and then in a moment the past stubbornly
stands right in front of me. The embers surge to life and the fire engulfs me. The
warmth of the memories I could once seek refuge within, now burns me down. Every
little tryst with the past leaves me charred.
Strangely, what doesn’t succumb to the past is the
unfathomable ocean of love I have in my heart. Even when the fire has consumed
the last piece of me, love remains, as vibrant and exuberant as ever. Love
conquers all. The rattles of the past drown in the melody of love. I reach out
to people I love; I entwine my life with theirs. I live the pain with them, we
celebrate the joys together. I get hurt, I forgive too soon. I place myself at
the mercy of the ones I love, I feel betrayed.
Love never dies.
As I walk by the nearly empty lanes of the city at six-fifty
in the morning, I see the sky still emerging from the darkness of the night. Will I be ever be able to convince him?
