I have no parents, I have a
mother, and I have a father but no parents. In the conflicts of greater
interests and in the great battles of domestic blitzkrieg I
lost my parents. They must have thought I was dumb and mind numb, they must
have thought I have no ears nor my eyes in-adept in the prevalent darkness,
they must have thought I have not seen the fall of my family. They must have thought I was deep asleep,
wandering in dreams that every child cherish while they wage their futile
battles to quench the devil’s thirst.
The times are tranquil now, the
ominous silence persists, no more are there swearing and curses, no more the
threatening sounds of apocalypse. The wounds have healed and the lines draw and
as in all war we all lost. The battle has left scares deep in my heart, which
no amount of time shall ever heal. What surprises me that they never felt to
leave it, they left their love, they theft all the meanings that the
institution of marriage held but still they have failed to leave each other and
search happiness elsewhere. As much as I would love to have my family, I am not
selfish, as much as the tales of evil steps trouble me; the hope for a happier
life for my parents’ persists. They are perfect for each other, they know it or
not, but in their frivolous pursuits of domination they doomed all hopes of
happiness that the relation would ever bear. It’s sad that they would deem to
that level of disgust that they could be no more stand the others presence
within the same set of walls.
But, I am not sad, I am not
devastated. When the days were dark and when the paths echoed with sinister
forebodings. I clutched to my heart and believed in a brighter days. I took
refuge among stacks of books and in the thought that ‘when winter is here can
spring be far behind”. I collected my fallen self, patched what was left, made
a pact with myself. I pledge myself that this is not what I shall become, I
made it clear to myself that I should learn, I decided to be not like my
parents when a world full of children promised to follow their parents way. I
knew I would be alone and silence was my best bet, it must have hurt them bad
had I took any other path. I assured myself to suffer in silence and rejuvenate
when it’s all over. I went into the fade where all my sabbaticals had but two
guests, me and myself.
This was an escape a less violent
one, one of pure suffering and at the end the promises came true. There was
spring, and there were flowers and there were butterflies. The was the fairies
and there were the rainbows. But, just one sadness that I think will persist in
this world of much bliss. The melancholic sense of the absence of a hand to
hold on to. The poignant fact that I have no shoulder to lean on to. Out in
this new world, I was to fend on my own, build it all up from scratch. But I
was happy, I was peaceful.
I know that many will pity for
the misfortunes I had, But I tell you don’t be. Be happy that I am what I chose
to be. At the end of this very difficult choice lied one rather rare gift. The
gift was the ability to let go and I think now I can after all. This blog is
the final act in the rather elaborate ritual of severance.
