Death and Work

Unfortunately, I have been on a weird family-death spree. I cannot explain how much I want this streak to end. It started with losing Nani in 2020, Dadi in 2021 and now Baba in 2022. I would say that I have been a fairly attached individual when it came to these 3 people. It wouldn’t be too much to say that I was either an absolute favourite kid or close to the absolute favourite.

Be it Nani being extremely critical about ensuring that I get what I loved, OR Dadi hiding stuff in my bags so that I get them as a surprise OR Baba taking pride in my business achievements and growing team and revenue.

As strange as it may sound, I usually do not take time to mourn. Maybe, I find it hard to mourn too. Sometimes, I also feel that maybe there is just nothing to mourn. After all, why should I mourn a life so well lived and so happily left behind?

Also, it’s not like I don’t want to cry. I do, something deep inside makes me want to cry but my eyes miraculously dry up. I may have a choked throat for a fraction of a second but then, I get absolutely fine in a split second.

Sometimes I feel that this inability to cry comes out as a frustration later.

I remember, when my Nana died, back when I was in class 7th, I felt bad- extremely bad, and alone! Even more so because Nana was literally my play-buddy. We used to play all the time- carom, cards, even gossip a lot, and then he had also all of these stories to share, one of which became the foundation of us being called Confused Genius.

Coming back to where I was, so, my Nana died, and I was obviously shaken but the only thing I could think of was my surprise test. I just wanted to focus on my test. I could be called someone who was mean and extremely selfish but I think, that would be too much emotional credibility being given to an 11-year-old.

SO, yes, I talked myself into not thinking about Nana and focussing more on my studies. I got Scholar Gown that year. I also felt that it would have been better had Nana been there. I also forced myself to dream of Nana then. I loved those dreams, me and Nana, sitting and chatting, and me asking him to help me write a poem so that it can be published in the newspaper.

I feebly remember the one he helped me write about war. I also remember, how disappointed I was at it being such a masterpiece- one could clearly tell that it wasn’t written by a kid!

Things weren’t different when we lost Nani, Dadi or most recently (yesterday) when we lost Baba. I am still working. I am still trying to cry, but here I am, writing stuff, working throughout the day.

I have been avoiding calls though because I know I may snap at someone and I am not really at peace. I think the emotional walls I build have gotten a bit too strengthened and I have become way too practical for my own good.

Death- is just another part of life. How do I consider it negative? It was supposed to happen anyway right!

But then why are people crying, why am I not crying?

Who knows!

At least I don’t!