Embrace? Pain?!

Nothing tortures young, passionate hearts like rain.

It was a heavy downpour from the grey skies since early morning that day. Cold was roaming the surroundings in breezes every now and then. After the lunch in a warm home, everyone was fast asleep in their furry blankets. Everyone, except her.

I saw her through the living room window when I came downstairs for my evening tea. She stood alone and quiet in the verandah, her hands resting on the railings and eyes staring hard into the downpour.

It had hardly been half a year since her breakup. Her parents were searching a man for her now, but it was not working out very well. Her parents were mad at her for rejecting one boy after another, and their worry drove her crazier, even more than all of our family. But she chose to wrap it all up in her cold silences for a long time and then take it out on some faultless person in a cloudburst of anger and frustration.

I pushed open the main door by my shoulder, carrying two cups of tea. “Why are you so obsessed with judging people from a distance? Why don’t you believe in them first and take a leap of faith instead? Go a bit further than the first meet, talk with them, try to get a bit more acquainted.”

“I’m fed up, Grandpa,” she said calmly after a sigh, “I’ve done it once and I’m done with it. I’m done pledging my heart to someone and losing them. I’m so fed up that I don’t want to let anyone even come close.”

“It’s not the same with everyone.” I placed one cup before her and put the other to my lips.

“More or less, it’s the same. I don’t want to risk it anymore.”

“And what will you do? You can’t just keep quiet. You have to do something, you know.”

“I have enough. I have friends, I have family, and I am earning enough. I do not need anything more.”

She was only reassuring herself that the little cocoon that she had weaved around herself was all that the world contained. I sighed in response. I knew she was saying it only because she was too afraid, and sad.

“I know it hurts you a lot. It makes me sad that I cannot do much to reduce it. But whatever I’m telling you, please trust in it for once. Have a big heart, and I promise you all will all be fine.”

“Somebody once told me, those with the biggest hearts suffer the most.”

“Everybody suffers dear,” I told her, trying to dissuade her. “The only difference is that some choose to inflict their pain on others in form of frustration and cheating, and others learn to do the opposite.”

She kept quiet for some time. She knew she was wrong, but both of us knew she had not chosen what she had become. “You cannot keep a pain to yourself. It’ll make you suffer more, I know.” She spoke, her voice wet with guilt.

“Not if you know how to embrace it.”

She scoffed, “Embrace? Pain?!”

“Yes. The pain is your guest and you must treat him with all due respect. You hate him from your gut, but you must give him a corner of your heart to live in, and provide it with the warmth of compassion.”

She kept looking into the street silently, but ears turned to me.

“Pain demands to be felt, so feel it, embrace it! That’s the only way!” I told her, bobbing my shoulders.

“Will it make the pain go away?” She asked, looking at me hopefully.

“No. The pain lives. But you have one less enemy to fight against.”

She looked away, silent for a moment as if thinking about what I was telling her.

“It’s not that simple, is it? If it was, everybody would be doing it and everybody would be happy.”

“In some way or another everybody is doing it. That is how everybody survives. But yes, it’s quite hard to follow or to be explained briefly. But trust me, it’s simpler than trying to push the pain away and hating yourself when it comes back to you again.”

She sighed. I wished some of her pain would leave her with that sigh. But that was not to happen. I had to do my best to advise her and help her out of the hardship.

“Do you know why some people have big hearts?” I asked her. She kept looking into the rain, ignoring my question. “Learn to respect the pain, learn to accept it. Big hearts do not suffer most. Rather, it’s the other way around: those who suffer a lot and yet choose to endure and embrace it, grow big hearts!”

She turned to look at me and I smiled back at her reassuringly.

The rain too seemed to agree with it, reducing to droplets before gradually fading out. Clouds parted to make way for faint sunrays and traffic refilled the streets. She lifted the cup of lukewarm tea that I had brought her and took her first sip.

I turned my gaze from her to the street and breathed in the prevailing chill of the rain – to embrace the melancholy of memories that the showers had revived in me.

What will you write?

She had not come out of her room since yesterday afternoon, when she had gone in tearfully. Nobody had noticed her absence in the hush and rush of her cousin sister’s wedding.

“Hey, what’s going on?” I asked Soha, her cousin-cum-best friend, as she was coming out of her room with an unfinished plate of breakfast. She battled with her thoughts for a moment, trying to decide whether she should let it out without permission.

“Better you ask her yourself,” Soha said morosely and went away.

I walked into her room. She sat on the balcony floor with her legs folded against her chest, staring at the rising sun with sorrow-stained eyes. Hearing my slow foot-steps, she quickly wiped her tears. I sat down in the armchair in the balcony and rested my chin on my walking stick, looking towards her. She did not say anything but kept staring into the sky, trying hard to hold back her tears. Without disturbing her, I quietly turned my head to look at the sunrise.

“Why do they do this?” She spoke after a silence, her tears now turning into anger, “first, they will play with your feelings, get you attached and then they will abandon you and walk away like nothing ever happened.”

I did not say anything, only turned my head to listen to her.

“Forget it, it was my mistake in the first place; I was never meant to be loved, I should have known that.” Her anger now calmed down, only to turn into guilt and grief as she broke into tears, “Why is God doing this to me? What did I do wrong?”

I stood up from the armchair and sat beside her while she sobbed hard, holding her face in her palms. I let her cry for some time, patting her back to make her feel better.

“What happened?” I asked after some time in a compassionate tone.

She was still crying uncontrollably. With great efforts she held it back to talk to me. “He left me Grandpa. He had said he’d be there by my side, whenever I needed him, but he left me! ‘It won’t work out, a long distance relationship won’t work with me, I’m sorry.’ That’s all he said, Grandpa!” She said, mocking him. A dam full of sorrow burst again as she asked me, “How can a ‘sorry’ undo all this, Grandy?”

I put my arm around her. “I know, I know, it cannot.” I said, trying to console her, “But you have to wipe those tears now, and come out. You cannot hide like this in your room, while your cousin is getting married out there, can you?”

She continued sobbing in my hug.

“I know this is hard time for you, but please try to understand. People are waiting for you out there. We’ll sort this all out as soon as the ceremony is over,” I assured her, “I promise, Okay?”

She knew I was right. She wiped her eyes and spoke, in a dry tone, “I can’t bear all that, grandpa. Few days back, I had been just as happy as Neha, but it’s all smashed up now – right in front of my eyes. Seeing all that happiness outside will remind me of him again and it will only break my heart more.”

“But Neha’s wedding will happen only once, dear.” I tried convincing her again, “What will everybody think? How bad will she feel if you weren’t there at all in her fondest memories of today?”

But she seemed absolutely convinced about it. “I won’t come out, not before this ceremony is over.” She pleaded, “Please?”

I sighed. “Okay,” I said, still holding my hand around her.

Sometimes, we need not talk. There’s not much a good advice can do. Rather, just the company of someone with their silent support helps more. She probably needed just that. She loosened up a bit and rested her head on my shoulder.

A warm tear rolled down on me and I was suddenly reminded of the old days, when she was only few months old. I would lay her head on my shoulder as she would wail loudly, and sing her a lullaby into sleep. It happened more than often when both of her parents would be busy at work.

I wondered if today’s situation was any similar to that.

“Mom and Dad would be furious if they got to know anything about this. They think I’m too young to do all this, and whatever I do is sheer stupidity.” She rubbed her nose and looked at me, “Why aren’t you mad? What makes you support me so much?”

I smiled, “I do not care which love is real and which love is stupid. All that I care about, right now, is the heartbreak, and heartbreaks are always real.”

She smiled and went down to keep her head in my lap. I patted her messed up hair that she had colored specially for the wedding.

“Didn’t sleep all night?” I asked, looking at her swollen eyes and tired face. She ignored my question.

“He was special, you know. He made me feel special. We could have worked things out, why did he leave like that?” She asked.

I did not have an answer to that. She stared into the ceiling for some time, thinking of possible answers to the question and then looked at me, expecting an answer or a confirmation to any one that she had thought of.

“I’m sure he had his reasons,” I said, “everybody has.” She kept staring at me, expecting more. “Life doesn’t always give you reasons. Some questions are unanswered, some answers are incomplete and you have to live with it.” I elaborated.

Unsatisfied, she looked back at the ceiling.

“Maybe, he will tell you someday,” I said, unsure of its truth, but it comforted her.

“But we were, like, meant for each other! It felt like it was written already!”

I smiled. “Sometimes, nothing is written already. Instead, you have to write it for yourself. You have to choose what it will be. Like how it is now: you have to decide whether it has ended or are you going to try to convince him a bit more. This is the part where you have to write. And… sometimes yes, it is written already and you are meant for each other,” I paused before saying, “but only for a short time.”

“But, he was my ‘one’, you know. How can it… end? With him?” She said, emphasizing important words and her desperate need for answers.

“It’s life, dear; it always ends, sooner or later. We hate it when it ends, but the best that we can do then is accept it and move on. For you it was still a relationship, only a year old maybe, I don’t know. But I have been married to two women in my life. I do not know which one of them I have loved more, and yet it has ended, both the times.”

She raised her eyebrows high and looked at me with a gaze one reserves for a person who has achieved the impossible, while I smiled.

“So what did you do then?”

“I wrote my part. I moved on with life.” I said, and all of it flashed before my eyes in a split second. For a moment I has almost lost myself into the flood-waters. She kept quiet, reassuring herself of the ages old lie that she could never do it.

“Allow me to tell you a secret,” I said, in very casual tone, “but you must not tell it to anyone, not even the person about whom it is.” Her expressions told me she needed anything but a third party secret right then, but telling this one was necessary. So I continued despite her negligence.

“Neha was once deep in love with another guy.”

She took a moment to get what it meant and then promptly got up from my lap, completely unnerved. “What??”

“Yes,” I said calmly, “not many people know about it, but it was a serious matter.”

“What happened then?”

“What happened is she got over him, and found someone who loved her!” I laughed.

“She loved some other guy, how can she love her husband now?” She asked, “Isn’t that cheating?”

“Lying, is cheating. Getting over, is not. And why can’t she love her husband, with her full heart?”

“But… soul-mates bond for life! She will ruin everything! You only have one soul mate, and if you marry someone else, then it is, cheating!” She almost shouted, trying to pour her heart in the argument.

She wanted what she believed to be the best for her cousin, just that she was still a teenager. I held her hand, and waited till she calmed down. “And who said the very first one is ‘The One’?” I asked, knowing her answer.

“It just happens, soul mates are bound to come together!”

“Let me give you a more realistic theory to your idea of love.” I said. “Love is universal, they say, and you will agree. Then how can it be restricted to some ‘one’?” I asked, quoting the word with my fingers. “Maybe, we do not have some ‘one’. Instead, we simply have ‘some’, and every one of them has a time frame in our lifespan. We can love anyone, literally anyone, once we accept them in our heart; and in the same way we can get over them as well. Some stay longer than others and with some we are not so lucky, but time and space hardly matter when it comes to love, after all!” I winked. “That is what explains the random breakups around the world, that is what explains one king fully loving his multiple wives, and that is what explains one person torn between two loves in his life.”

She was speechless at the wild bombings I had launched on her beliefs.

I smiled and held her hand in mine. “Don’t worry about it right now. You will find it all very hard to accept, being your first time in the matters of heart. But I’m sure you will get over and find your love.”

Her face changed immediately into disgust at that sentence. “Everybody says that, everybody advises me to move on,” She spoke, “but I just can’t bear that thought! A person who has had such an important place in your life, you can’t just wipe them out! You should not wipe them out. What love is it if you have the cruelty to wipe them out of your heart like that?”

“The question really is that, can you really wipe him out?” I looked in her eyes as if expecting an answer from her, “Like he never ever existed?”

Both of us knew, she had none. She looked at me helplessly.

“You do not wipe them out,” I explained, emphasizing the word for her, “But you remember them! You be grateful to them for the experiences that they gave you. You respect them for whatever good they have caused in your life and no-one can ‘replace’ them, as such. So you always, Love them! But you also accept that they are not yours anymore. You accept, that their memories will only hurt you for now, and you choose to refrain from remembering them again and again at least till the heart-break heals.”

She looked away in silence.

“Are you understanding what I am saying?”

“Yes,” She answered. “Maybe I need some time so I can pick myself up and really think on all that you have said.”

“True. It cannot happen overnight.” I said. It had taken years for me too.

“But Grandy,” She said, her eyes welling up again, “why can’t it stay the way it is? Why does it have to end at all?”

I sighed and looked at the sun. It was one bitterness I had found myself hating about life as well.

“Some people are like lighthouses, dear. They are kind, enlightening, and special; but not meant to be around forever. Every lighthouse has a port of its own and it cannot leave its home. And others like us, who are ships, we don’t want to leave that port. Lighthouses maybe used to saying goodbyes, but for us they are painful. Someday or the other though, we have to say them anyway, though. Goodbyes are hard, goodbyes are not fair, and there will be tears in your eyes when you say them, but make sure you say them with a smile as well!”

Tears were flooding down her eyes as I spoke. I knew none of this was useful for her in that moment, but it was going to help her stand up back in the days to come.

“He ruined my life, he ruined all of it. He does not deserve any of this kindness!” She said, angry at him with a heart flooding with teenage love.

“Maybe. But you do!” I urged, “In old age, you do not regret the people you lost. Losing people is a part of life. But you regret the goodbyes that you could have said but never did.”

She was crying, tears flowing down her lowered face. I had made my point, in both the matters.

I patted her a reassurance, took my hands off her shoulders and stood up, gripping my walking stick. “The decision is yours, and you are free to do what you like, but we all are waiting for you outside.” I told her and began walking to the door.

“There is nothing more beautiful than a heart that has been hurt by Love, but still believes in it. Remember, Heartbreaks are painful wounds, but all wounds heal. Till then, share your pain with your loved ones. If you are in pieces, pull yourself together, fill those pieces in heartbreaks of others, heal hearts! Never stop believing in Love, because Love is much more than Romance. Hatred is not the cure to heartbreaks. Love maybe a malady, but Love itself is its only medicine.”

Later, that evening, everyone had tears in their eyes. The bride, like any girl of modern days, was smiling broadly, wiping everyone’s tears and teasing them for being cry-babies. But nobody cried like her that day. She hugged the bride tight with red, tearful eyes and the bride was utterly surprised why she was crying so much.

I did not know how much of her tears were from the heartbreak she had just sustained. But what was it that I could do more? Getting over him and believing in Love, she had to do it all by herself. I could only help her, advise her, support her and wish for her a good life. After all, for me it was a story that was already written. For her, it was story to write on.

Which death would you prefer?

“Which death would you prefer, the one with old age, or a sudden, unexpected one?” He asked me, with a straight face.

His elder brother had died in a road accident a few days back, paying for the mistake of some drunkard. In the days that followed, he had grown noticeably silent. I was afraid that the incident would cause some long lasting scars on his mind. Being a 17 year old, he was mature enough to stand up to such shocks of life; but it was a young mind after all. His silence worried me; it seemed like the silence before a storm.

But that day, as I was sitting on the open terrace under the night sky, he came and sat beside me. “Grandpa,” he asked me after a few silent moments, “which death would you prefer? The one from the old age, or a sudden, unexpected one?”

I looked deep into his eyes, trying to figure out the thoughts that brought him to this question. He came to me either when he couldn’t find an answer with anyone else, or when he had a thread of strange thoughts to discuss.

“What do you mean?” I asked, unable to trace his thoughts.

In those silences that I had been worrying about, he had done a lot of thinking about this question. In his eyes I could see its elaboration coming up.

Staring at the night sky, he continued with pauses. “These stars, shine in the sky, every night, without missing a single day. There’s our own, large and huge sun, shining brightly every day. But nobody values him, or the stars. Nobody ever seems to care about them. Nobody even bothers to look up at them when they rise in the sky. Because they are always there, and will always be there, no matter what.

And then, there are shooting stars and comets. They shine only for a moment, but they catch every one’s attention and awe, because they are rare and will die out in a matter of moments! I would prefer a death like that, sudden and unexpected.” As he talked, a glow lit up in his eyes, for the first time since his brother’s death. I was glad that it didn’t take too much time.

There was a moment of silence as I took in what he said. He was still staring at the sky; not yet out of his thoughts, and quite uninterested in my answer. “It’s not about the kind of death that you would prefer,” I brought him to senses, “But the life.”

He looked at me, his expressions showing the interest and questions he had about my statement.

“Attention, fame, glamour, and reputation! It is very common to feel that they are all what we have to achieve in our lives. But actually, life is more than just that.”

“That is not an answer to my question,” He said.

I smiled. “You see, sun never gets much ‘attention’, or ‘importance’. But that does not reduce his ‘worth’! He keeps on shining, because he knows how he blossoms the life on earth. Whether he gets fame or does not, the life that blossoms because of him won’t change a bit.” I took a pause, so that he could understand what I meant. Pointing at the stars, I continued. “These small stars that shine in the night sky, one might think of them as useless objects, but they guide the lost sailors in the sea. Ships find their route using the stars which seem useless to everyone else.”

He turned silent. After a brief thinking he questioned, “Then why don’t they get the attention and fame like the shooting stars and comets? They are the ones who actually deserve it!” “Because life is not all about attention!” I smiled, and he frowned.

“Then what is it about?”

I exhaled, and looked at the sky. “It is, in fact, about satisfaction.” The stars above shone brightly in the darkness. “Even after the fact that he does not get the attention he deserves, the sun continues to shine every day without sulking. Do you know why? Because he is satisfied in being one of the reasons why the miracle of life could blossom on earth. And looking at how rare life is in the universe, that satisfaction rules out any craving for attention! The stars that are light years away from us, I don’t think they even know about how they help the sailors and ships! So what happens, if out of a misunderstanding that their lives are worthless, and out of a foolish craving for attention and fame, these stars start committing suicides to look like the shooting stars? Who will then guide the sailors?” He looked at me, his eyes hinting a sense of understanding.

“Son, we can never know the impact of our lives on the world, or on other lives around us.” I patted him on his back. “As for the attention and fame, that is just an illusion. It never affects the impact you make. And sometimes, the impact that you can make is more important than the attention you get. So your job is to continue, no matter what. Because who knows, you maybe a guiding star, to a life form billions of kilometres away!”

He looked at his feet in silence. As expected, that glow in his eyes was gone. “Then what about the comets and shooting stars? What about the undeserved attention they get?”

I shrugged, “Well, that attention has a purpose.” He seemed to be getting impatient. “And, what is it?” “To show the stars how fragile their life is, and inspire them to use it wisely!”

His questions stopped, which meant he had understood what I wanted to tell him.

But he was restless. Maybe he needed some time to accept it.

“So,” I smiled at him mischievously as I raised my left eyebrow and placed my hand on his shoulder, “which death would you prefer?”

He turned to me to stare for a moment or two with a blank face, and then smiled. I smiled and patted on his back.

He would accept it soon though, I was sure.