“Mamma, I think you live a lot in the past.”
I used to believe past is integral to me. I mean even Tyrion Lannister approves: “Your scars are a reminder that your past was real.” My past was real. Real as shit on my face. I don’t know, however, even despite cultivating so much of existentialism in me, why do I tend to dwell in the past so much. I used to believe there’s something wrong with me but then I saw my mother. It started to make sense. My mother is a living embodiment of times that don’t exist now. To my surprise, my mother did not retaliate. In fact, she said “Yes Pakhi, I think you are right.” Only that the statement was not exactly addressed to her, it was addressed to a version of me that I projected in her.
“Maaf karke aage badh jao, mamma.” (Forgive and move on, mother). We were playing a game of cards while having this conversation. I was almost winning. She looked at me with the most innocent smile ever. “You have matured so much, Pakhi. You have beaten me today.” Well, I was definitely beating her in the game of cards only to realize she meant something else. As she looked at me with those compassionate eyes, I teared up. I put the cards down and rubbed my eyes. I was taken back to that page of my journal which had a list of names. PEOPLE WHO HURT ME. Haha, my dad tops the list. I was taken back to that lecture from my undergraduation. “Forgiveness is a kindness you extend to yourself.” My voice broke but I am just glad mother was too focused on her next move in the game. With those cards in my hand, all I could think was a way to finish the game quickly so that I could go to my room and cry. I wondered how I keep telling others “You know you can either remember and regret or forgive and forget.” But this isn’t how technically it works, you know? You may forgive and remember too and you can forgive and regret too. But the question is : Have you forgiven? I looked at my mom and it was almost like looking into the mirror. I keep complaining to my mom “Purani baatein bhool jao, mamma.” (Let bygones be bygones) but what I have practiced to even preach something like that? Perhaps, if I could begin with that list in my journal, I can let go of everything I once held dear. Each day, one person less. Perhaps, in a year I will come a little closer to becoming whole and one day, I won’t have any past to talk about. But you see, that’s not the point. Letting go does not always mean you let go of the past altogether. Letting go could just mean forgiving yourself, to begin with. It might not happen in a day, not even in months. I mean, who am I kidding? It took me two years to move on from a man I once loved. Maybe letting go and forgiveness can take a lifetime. For today though, I am just happy I am not openly talking about my past even though it hits me everyday in some corners of my being unlike my mother who keeps talking about the past over and over. Maybe, just maybe, I should begin with forgiving her first?
“You won, mom!”