How are you supposed to feel when you get to know that the person who has been providing stuff to you all your life won’t be around anymore? That the date has been decided and the countdown has started and you can’t do shit about it. How the fuck are you supposed to feel? I feel numb.
All my life I’ve been nothing but strong. I can’t take anymore shit. I can’t face anymore illnesses. I can’t face anymore deaths. I’m fucking tired of it now. I just wanna scream. And rot. And probably, die. If at all God exists, somewhere up there, I can literally go and punch that motherfucker and knock him down. But sadly, no one is there. No one is there to take those punches. You are alone. All fucking alone.
I don’t know how you are supposed to deal with such stuff. I’ve never been good at it. At times, I feel numb. At times, I explode. At times, I feel helpless, I feel miserable. At times, I pity myself. And at times, I don’t wanna live. There’s a limit to everything. If this is life’s way of teaching lessons, I don’t wanna be the student anymore. Truth is ugly. It’s shit. An hour back, I saw my mother crying. She is pretty emotional but I don’t blame her. Things really are ugly. She is still crying. But I’m ignoring it and writing this. There’s no other way, no other choice. That’s the new truth. That’s how it would be. Till the countdown stops. And after that, a chaos. A chaos which would change my perspective towards life, all of it, again.
Funny how a little thing in life can open your eyes so wide that you can’t see things anymore. For a fact, I never hugged my father. Till today. Today was something else. We hugged. It wasn’t warm. It wasn’t squishy. It was cold. It was tough. It broke me down. It broke him down. But we kept our composure. We held it inside. We managed. Somehow.
My dad is the kind of guy who won’t ask you to do anything. He won’t ask you to study hard, he won’t ask you to pass the glass of water, he won’t ask you to do MBA. He would take the glass of water himself. He would give you the freedom to choose whatever you want. He won’t question your decisions. He would be there if you fail. But he won’t stop you from falling. He won’t ask you to get up. He’d just stay there. Looking out for you. And I always hated him for that. But over the years, I’ve realised that as a dad, maybe that’s the right thing to do. To be there. To make sound. To watch us falling down. To watch us getting up. To watch us running. It’s that simple. Yet too hard.
I don’t care what life chooses for him. No one can change the truth. We gotta accept it. But I’m grateful to him. I’m grateful for every little decision that he has asked me to make. I’m glad that he didn’t go to bank with me for the first time. Maybe I hated him at that time. Maybe it took me 4 hours to get my passbook. But I learned. I’m glad that he didn’t make me dependent on him. I see kids who take their parents to the passport offices, to their exam centres, to banks and I feel proud about myself when I see them. I am glad he wasn’t there for me. I am glad he made me learn things the hard way, the right way. I am glad for the hug we shared today. I am glad that he is with me. I’m not great at expressing my love, but I’m sure he gets it. Exactly how I get him. I hope he lives another fifty years so that I can be grateful to him for hundred other things. I hope.
He is asking for a glass of water. Brb. Things have changed, it seems.