Tag: death

When Love Dies

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Have you ever felt so hungry in your life that your stomach sucks itself in and presses to the back of your spine, your ribs are attached to the skin on your chest and you can run your fingers through every single bone as if they are thin long piano keys playing a sad raging tune firing up inside your caged heart; only you are the sole soul who can listen to that music, and sometimes you wonder why is it that you have no food, no strength, no love, no voice; your muscles are failing you, the familiar ache in your calves and shoulder blades remind you of some body chemistry you learnt in your biology class, something that had to do with your body storing lactic acid in your muscles and you wonder what good that biology course ever did to you – all it taught you were theories and mechanisms of how your cells breathe, but it didn’t teach you why your cells still breathe when you want them to just give up and die; it didn’t teach you why your cells don’t give up, why you don’t give up, why your body doesn’t give up, why your soul doesn’t give up; it didn’t teach you what makes your brain cells think about themselves, it didn’t teach you why your heart hurts and eyes tear up and you feel and feel and feel until you can’t feel anymore, it didn’t teach you why poets write about broken hearts and butterfly flutters, when logically you know that your brain is stimulating the love you feel; so what I’ve learned from all the biology courses I’ve taken is not to die when you stab me in the heart because my heart has no love- it is all in my head; I am the chemist of my brain chemicals, I can un-love you just as I loved you once; but the vacuum in my stomach is sucking my soul in because my brain doesn’t fill it up with butterflies anymore, I have no love in me but I also have no joy, my heart rages and my ribs play the piano, I am slowly dying, and the one thing I’ve learned from life, that biology didn’t teach me is that you should never let love run out, because when love dies, you die too.

[I’m recently obsessing over one-sentence stories, and this is my first one. It is more of a random rant than a story- definitely the longest sentence I’ve ever written at 1.30 am in the morning ! haha] 

Do you remember?

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do you remember the first time you stepped on the green grass?
bare feet, the little blades tickling your toes
you bent down to smell the earth,
sniffing your nose
and you wished
that moment would never pass.

do you remember the first time you ran through the paved street?
or maybe learned to cycle,
your father holding your bike steady
you shrieked and swayed a bit
but you knew you were ready
because you could always run back safely
to your family in a heartbeat.

do you remember the first time you learned about god ?
or visited temples ?
rang bells ?
even saw monkeys stealing sweets !
for you festivals meant fun and lots of tasty treats
and every time you went back to those temples,
you would still be completely awed.

do you remember how it has been a month of terror?
the lives you lost, the tears you shed, your dreams that drowned.
was it science
or fate
or just random trial and error?
everything you knew is now just aground.

do you remember how it has been a month of resilience?
the grasses you sniffed,
the pavements you ran,
the gods you visited- are no longer there.
yet you see hope, love, and courage at every single distance.
because when you lost your family a month ago,
you still had brothers and sisters at every corner that care.

ten years later, i hope you remember that afternoon
not as the day you lost everything,
but gained something new
i see strength in you, the courage you have is a boon
you have us all standing with you-
i know you will pull through.

Today marks the one month anniversary of the devastating 7.8 magnitude earthquake that hit Nepal, killing more than 8600 people, injuring thousands and destroying more than half a million homes completely. May the souls rest in peace.

Nepal’s Earthquake: The Aftermath

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It is day 4 of the earthquake in Nepal and the more I hear about the aftermath, the more traumatized I become. I cannot even begin to imagine the terror people in Nepal must be feeling.

I still remember the time when I climbed the steps of the Dharara tower with my best friends. Having lived in Kathmandu forever, I told myself it was extremely strange to not have climbed the historic tower, so my friends and I went there a few weeks before I moved to Canada.

The steps were very narrow. I had expected it to be different, sort of a museum inside with paintings and facts about the Kings and Queens of Nepal. But the tower itself was bleak, with narrow winding steps, and bare walls. Only when we reached the top balcony, I saw what the fuss was all about. Kathmandu looked stunning from the top. Nine storeys isn’t too tall, but it was tall enough to make anyone fall in love with our city.

The moment I saw pictures of the collapsed tower and the news of deaths, my mind went crazy. Every time I think about the tower, all I can imagine is what those people inside the narrow space must have felt when it all came crumbling down. I was there two years ago. I could have been a body under the rubble if the earthquake had hit then.

We finally got in touch with our family members yesterday night. I knew they were alive, but only yesterday I listened to the horrifying descriptions of the quake from people I love. My family members are still shaken up. My cousin said, he can’t help jumping in terror every time he hears a vehicle rumble or feels his phone vibrate in his pocket.

Though alive and well, they still haven’t moved back in the house. Our house, though still standing has witnessed a tornado inside, with broken mirrors, upturned shelves and broken windows. Water and electricity are scarce. My mom’s sister said she had to walk 20 minutes to get a jar of water because they do not have a drop available in their area.

There have been more than a hundred aftershocks following the earthquake. The biggest one of 6.7 magnitude fuelled the damage. Two of my neighbours died of heart attacks in the latter tremor, despite of being in a relatively safe ground. The death tolls are nearly 5000. The PM says it is very likely to reach 10,000 when the rescue teams venture out into the inaccessible areas and villages. It seems the worst is over, but I’m afraid the quake has more in stock with high chances of diseases, and possibly an epidemic.

People from all over the world have been raising money for Nepal. My friends and I had raised over $1100 on our fundraising page, when someone reported it as fraud. Our page was shut down. After contacting GoFundMe and UNICEF, and providing full verifications about our intent and destination of funding, our page was restored. You can visit it here to contribute.

http://www.gofundme.com/swk1co

I had a final exam today that I deferred. I could not study when my brothers and sisters, people I love and know, were dying and are suffering. I still find it hard to believe that the place I lived in for 18 years of my life, the temples I visited, the roads I walked on, are all going to be just a part of my memory.

No more can I go back to Nepal and witness another flashmob in Basantapur Durbar Square, or climb the steps to the top in Dharara. But I do hope to find my country stronger, the people equally loving, spiritual and generous, and the essence of togetherness still intact, for that is what Nepal is all about.

Our temples may have broken, but our faith remains strong. God bless Nepal.

Sweet Summer of Twelve

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Sweet summer of twelve standing in the balcony of my room
on the third floor of our huge house facing the gurgling river a few yards ahead,
I felt a touch of sky dropping on my shoulders.
Gods had given me a gift- the weight of the whole world rested inside my frail heart.

I remember it was the same fall of twelve, a few months later
I was standing in the same balcony,
only it was the sky that was gurgling. Pouring and screaming, clashing and crying.
I stood there in the middle of the night. Not quite in the middle; it was 2 a.m.
I hated the rain, and I wanted to die.

I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t jump, I couldn’t cut, I couldn’t overdose.
I was weak. I was brave. I was unhappy. I was not enough. I was never enough.

I stood in the rain to torture myself. I was scared of the thunder. I was controlling my fears.

I felt limitless.

I thought a lot about suicide that night. Sounds insane but I wanted a chance.
One shot at the power to control my life; even if it meant during my death.

Sometimes freedom is all you really need.

Freedom. Freedom. Freedom.

I moved places, I saw faces, I saw freedom, I saw more pain. The more you have, the more you need.

Freedom is to dive off cliffs and kiss strangers, smoke pot and watch the stars, sleep until you drift away into oblivion, wake up, pack your bags, and
move on someplace else because the freedom you have is not enough.

Freedom is to let go of such expectations, yet hold on to your dreams, embrace your sadness, turn it into a weapon,
feel every single breath your lover takes,
see the grass, see the sky, see yourself in the mirror, see what you really are and not look away.

Wild winter of fifteen, I stand in a different balcony looking at a lake
calm and vast, the weight of the grey sky turning it into a deep shade of silver.
It looks beautiful.

The same winter of fifteen, I choose to live.
Live while I’m alive, live after I die, my organs in the bodies of strangers,
my dreams in the minds of millions,
my sadness in the struggles of every depressed person,
my hopes in the insides of their hearts.

I cry. You cry.
I am depressed. My friend has social anxiety.
Another one is schizophrenic.
Another one told me he was seeing a therapist.

I am depressed. You are not.
Yet we are the same.
One day we shall realize that the borders we have
are just lines on sand
easy to create, easier to cross.
I shall donate my organs, you shall donate your hopes.
Hopes and organs and bodies and dreams and
hurts and fears
different for each, same for all.
The universe stops only at a full circle.