A few days back I witnessed the horror of my sister leaving the house, distraught. A fallout, that hit real hard. All along, I just kept thinking of all those things that I wanted to say to her, or talk to her about. Last words of sorts. But not the first time that they would be told. In vain, I penned a letter, hoping that it would reach her magically. Until I publish this here.
Dear Sister,
The past few hours have been tumultuous. Nothing has been said clearly, everything has been a maze of confusion, and time seemed to be passing away in a haze. But there were arguments that seeped in between, accusations that went flying around, and tears that streamed down cheeks unheard and unrealized. I have never felt so broken and empty my entire life. And I am not exaggerating. When you walked out of the door, with your bags packed and a steely resolve shining on your face, I knew that a lot of things would and will change with you crossing that threshold. The dynamics of the four walls that houses us will change. In fact it has already changed. Strained things hardly take time to wear out and wrought. They hardly take time to break. Except that in our case it was already broken,
we were looking at a mirage, accepting it to be the reality, weaving dreams out of farce , and not bothering to look at the strewn pieces of the broken mirror. And broken mirrors have never been considered auspicious. Your room looks the same, but refuses to feel the same. The pillows have been propped up in exactly the same manner, but, its almost as if the pillows also realise that one among them is missing. Hence they slouch. Ma hasn't eaten a morsel, and so have I. I have cried my eyes out. And not shed a tear at the same time. I have tried asking myself the reason, and let go of it too.All the battles that we fought together, all the promises that we wrote together, all the sense that we made out of our nonsense together went out of the window, with your final step. It will be sometime before, I compose and make myself understand, and come to terms with your absence. That sometime, could well be a lot of time. You say you were unloved, but I say you were loved. And still loved by so many people around. I write this letter, as I sit, crying in your empty room. I am a little worried about the dark now, since you are not around. As usual. I have finished looking into your cupboard, five times already now. The stupid kid in me is not willing to understand that you have left. Already. Finally. When you were leaving, I thought it was in your best interest to do so. Now, when I try to make myself feel the same way, it is almost as if life cruelly and very harshly laughs into my face. I mean, its fine. Its totally okay. I will fumble while tying my laces, and be a little hesitant while crossing the road. I will miss the warmth of your blanket, solely because it was yours. I will mess up calculation at the grocers. Saturdays are going to stare blankly into my face, Saturday nights.
I won't have my favourite person around to light me up with a bar of chocolate. Its okay, the last fragments of our family have torn and worn off.
But I wish for you to be fine. To be happy. To feel great. To achieve great things. You needn't come back....if it's not worth it. You are a fine human being, with all your imperfections. Just be happy!! May the universe just bless you with all the happiness it has in store for you. I will miss our conversations that began late in the night, and ended as the sunlight streamed in with you making my pillows comfortable for me to fall on. Our life wasn't perfect before. But it was ours. It was beautiful, the small world of ours. I will miss our squishy hugs, and smothering kisses. I will miss this family for real. The house, made up of one room, and two people. A lot of love , and lot of warmth! Crumpled packets of chips, cookies, jokes! Heartbreak and achievements! This room bites into me, but it wont let me leave. And I won't.
Don't come back.
I love you , that's all that matters.
Ma misses you too.
Yours
Fatness
P.S. The curtains seem sad.
Story