I’ve been thinking to write regularly. Writing not only clears what I think, but also helps give direction and put into perspective the various thoughts that literally clog my head and vision. It also establishes a certain confidence to use words (like candor instead of frank; egregious instead of calling someone an evil genius). It also helps you to clear your vision as to what you want to write when you write a certain text, about an experience or someone. It also helps as a therapy for people who cannot get over what has been either troubling them or diverting their attention. 

I am also amazed at the way my Mother and I converse over the tiniest of logics and somehow sew it with writing. I lost my Maternal grandfather, Nanaji, two months back and though I wrote about him after that, it was never a direct text. I absolutely hate confronting anything directly, especially something and someone that is very close to my heart. I like putting out my thoughts and voice in a way that maybe only one person in thousands might be able to grasp; that is how I communicate with the Universe. Coming back to what I was actually wanting to write, is how Mother and I discussed people and extremely few aspects of this life that we have; often struggling with one’s existence in the world, where is my life in general headed towards and the likes. We talked about her father today. My Nanaji. We cried a little realising the absence of his physical presence but also smiled about our shared memories of him and also the individual ones. Then, next we related all that we could make of the quote that I read, extracted from Dana Cann’s debut novel, Ghosts of Bergen County: “This was life: you’re here. And this was death: you’re not. And then you’re here again, haunting some stranger. And none of it matters.” 

My Nanaji had an army background and so for him, death was another stage of life; he’d often say, “We all are here and so it is only natural that we die. Its only when we die would we be able to let someone carry our legacies forward. That is how humanity has proceeded and that is how it would be.”
Writing about him has made him come alive again. It has indeed been like the one medium that has lead me to connect with him again, this time in my word and the way I saw our moments. This is, how Mother finally concluded, that one should look at life, receive it with both hands and eventually pass it onto our successors. 

Concluding with Valerie Martinez,
“In our calculations: the fact of matter
at lack of matter. The invisible, collapsed star.
If you must, a black hole. Thus the message of blackness
clearly indicating the coordinates of nothingness.”

In this black hole, I think I spotted a falling star. 


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