Almost all my writes are soaked in my tears.
Not in an attempt to find the right word; which, by the way does happen while zeroing in on the title; but, remembering a date from past with similar shades threatening to tell.
Take for instance my creative writing classes.
It was while compiling the sheets for the portfolio submission that my eyes could no longer contain it. Almost two decades back, around after a month from today, I was bent on my cartridge sheet to complete my assignment. People coming in to mourn my mother’s death were beyond appalled. They couldn’t understand why a seventeen year old was busy “playing” with colors when it was barely a few days that her mother had passed away. Whether I was engrossed in my work ignoring their remarks because I wanted my submission to be as good as it always had been or if it was out of seeking refuge, I wouldn’t know. All I know that that was the last time I had sat down to study at home, if I may say so. My mother’s dream of seeing her daughter achieving something great in her life had gotten hanged mid-air. She didn’t live long enough to witness her daughter failing (and falling) since then.
Relationships, life, battles… didn’t matter whatever.
I was moved out of the house by my uncle soon. English Honors that I was pursuing got fizzled. People I knew then did not tell me where IGNOU was. People I met later didn’t care too. The eight year long period got lapsed and I could not study literature despite my having wanted to.
I wouldn’t give any excuse that I had a full time Textile Designing course to take care of or that arranging for 15k for the fee was my only priority. I had a loser guy staying right with me in name of “protecting” me. I was fending for him too.
Consequently, I had stopped writing and sketching. I was left bitter. I did come out of then current mess but my life is still to be sorted out.
Cut to 2012.
I lost someone very dear to me only a month back, not to death this time (thankfully); but brutally. Defining him as “the love of my life” or “the one I loved the most” will define his relationship with me in a very limited way; so, I choose not to give any description in words. How many more times will I be left estranged before it stops?
I am stuck in a very tricky situation; almost in bondage. The game is little reversed, I am not the provider anymore.
One of my classmates from the second school one day happened to tell me about a course. Its diploma equivalent is being run by IGNOU (why that again), the one I have opted for is a certificate course. Tomorrow is my portfolio submission. This time around, I have no one with me who could possibly die leaving me stoned. Managing the finances is still the trick question, and many more similarities besides the ones I just made a mention about, stare in me.
My wish list is a long parchment of broken dreams.
Is that my desire to study that got brutally neglected that has landed me into this course?
Is life trying to pay back in loose change for what I couldn’t really do and for what I wanted to… and writing is not the only thing!
This doesn’t end here…
Back in those days even wired phone connection was rare. One applied and then waited till he was allotted a phone number. No one bothered. Staying in touch was through snail mail, we called it letters back then. LIS wasn’t a school I liked much. I was unable to make any friends; let alone exchanging notes with them. Most of them were busy painting me dirty. I didn’t care much even then. A girl whose father had abandoned her when she was 12 had had to be as strong as a punching back.
It’s different now.
We have google groups to interact on, besides FB. Then, texting each other on cell; we updating each other of our progress on the portfolio; I feel I am in a group, one I had missed since my GFPS days. The one who intrigued me into it, as well as my best friend is from LIS. Again, is life throwing at me what it had claimed so many years ago?
What is the Universe conspiring upon this time?