I couldn’t summon the courage to write this last week. Writing this meant sitting in pain for hours, to weep and to wipe non-stop. I didn’t have it in me last week. Today, I feel ready.

इतनी भी दूर मत चले जाना

मुझे जाना है
ठीक है, चले जाओ

पर ध्यान रहे!

इतनी दूर भी मत चले जाना
कि तुम्हारी ख़ुशी की क़ीमत
फ़्लाइट की टिकट से कुछ कम रह जाए
कि तुम्हारे दुख की कसक
मेरी बेबसी के आगे कुछ नरम रह जाए

इतनी भी दूर मत चले जाना कि
अपनों को मिलने के लिए भी
ग़ैरों से इजाज़त लेनी पड़े
किसी दिन तुम्हें गले लगाने का जी चाहे
तो 6 इंच की स्क्रीन से काम चलाना पड़े

अरे इतनी भी दूर मत चले जाना कहीं
कि अपने ही घर में मेहमान बनकर लौटो
तुम, एक एहसास हो
कहीं ऐसा न हो
कि तुम भी बस एक और इंसान बनकर लौटो

तो फिर कितनी दूर?
कितनी दूर जाने दोगे मुझे?

बस इतनी
कि तुम्हारा आना किसी त्योहार सा नहीं,
बारिश की फुहार सा हो
कभी भी, बिना बताए

बस इतनी
कि मुलाक़ातों और साँसों की गिनती
में ज़्यादा अंतर न हो
तुम्हें याद करना पड़े,
ऐसी नौबत ही न आए

बस इतनी
कि तुम्हारे जीवन पर न सही,
कम से कम
तुम्हारी विदाई पे मेरा अधिकार हो

ग़लती से भी इतनी दूर मत चले जाना
कि एक दिन तुम्हारी ज़िंदगी
3 मिनट की ख़बर में सिमट के रह जाए
और मेरे हाथों को अग्नि
मेरी आँखों के दरिया को सागर
भी नसीब न हो

Part of growing up is realizing that eventually, you will lose everyone you know. Every single one of them, until they lose you. This time, it was my Bua, meeting an accident, thousands of kilometers away from us in Canada.

Her demise hurts. The untimeliness hurts even more. But what hurts the most is our inability to do anything about it. We couldn’t take part in cremation, couldn’t perform any rituals, couldn’t even feel her absence to the fullest because she was rarely present in the first place.

Few months ago, I was talking to my parents about how short life is (read something in a book). And I said that Bua visits us once every couple of years. This means that at the very best, we’ll see her 10 times or so. This revelation made them anxious. 10 is such a small number. It’s practically nothing! And I said that’s the max. Maybe the count is 8 or who knows 5…

The correct answer was in fact zero. We met her last in December, without knowing it was the last. She was the kindest person I knew. Kindest in the family, the kindest in her company, and most definitely the kindest in the world. We miss her.

This shock hit hard and made me question so many things about life. About life in general, but also my life in particular. I wanted to burn it down to ashes and build it afresh. A life that is resilient to the uncertain. One that’s free of regrets. I wanted to change everything. Everything!

But all it took was a week to get back to repeating the same old patterns. Nothing changed. I am back to worrying about my mundane problems — ah I still don’t have a job or what that one particular person thinks of me. Guess I just can’t change. Guess we’re built this way. Mortals with the ego of Gods.

I’ll write again next week,
Aachman