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As I Grew Up, And Apart.

As I Grew Up, And Apart.

4 mins
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As I grew up, and apart*

The moment I kicked my way out of your ever forgivable sheath and meadow of happiness; sometimes more akin to the liabilities of life and a pain, greater than you have suffered tonight because during those times, your tears haven't interfered with an extension of your moulded love and vanity, my feeble eyes could see an affable creature holding me in her arms. In the days that followed, I knew I would call her mine, my 'Ma'.

"You are beautifully broken right now, but give me time, I will use that needle you have kept in the left drawer and stitch you back to the lady, who is the enhanced epitome of the breathtaking beauty of the first rain", your little one wanted to whisper back into your ears, reciprocating the words of affection that you showered me with but couldn't, if only I could speak.

You held me by my arms, the enthralled me wobbling and unbalanced, giving me strength, support and made me walk; a part of my existence became a reason of your smile. I couldn't realize it then for I was busy, keeping balance and making my own way in the little space we shared. And soon, I was tracing my way to your arms, back, once again.

"You are alone right now, with no time to relish but just bury the anguish and get on with life. Give me time and I will stand by you like the mountain crushing down every inkling bleak reminders of your solitude, just like you made me walk. I wish I could stand then, and not fall again and again." If only.

The nights you have spent awake, the way you have swum in the fire that burned you from the inside, the smoldering embers of times when you had others' presence in your life, around you, not away from you, and the way you have howled at one and all who have ever tried to hurt me, made me proud. Every single time. All I did was cry, keeping you awake and now, I realize that the fortress of love and protection you had built, was probably the strongest. Soon I began to cross the bridge and made my way out of it, the fortress. Times and generation changed lives, two lives in ways I can't ever decipher.

"Your eyes are red and pale. You need some sleep, some rest, some time for yourself. Give me time, I would make the dark circles disappear, the kid would grow up. Once again, you would be the chasm between devastatingly beautiful and flooded with the sunshine. I wish I didn't cry late nights." If only.

There were times when I thought you can't understand me at all, and how I used to fight! The manner I spoke, the judgments I put forward, the way I overreacted on seeing you're over endearing reactions, all those times I grew closer to people, people who had come in my life just months back, and somewhere I forgot my first best friend. I was busy in my work, in everything but you, that I only wished to enter my own galaxy, recognize my majestic self, feed off the world so not into sanity and be my very own Cinderella.

In all those years, I forgot that you were nothing without me, nothing but an abruptly terminated novella. During those days, I told you many times that you have run away from life always, what I forgot was your purpose of doing it, the purpose of keeping me away from tragedy.
Neither could I understand your innumerable reasons for unnecessary worry, nor I could find the words stuck in your silence.

"You are still the fantasy I always dreamt of penning down. You are still the reality that I am escaping from, unwillingly. You are still the only thud of my heart which has seen and heard what none ever have. You are still the deepest fear and quickening thirst for calmness after every nightmare. You are still the revelation of the sensory calm my favorite books bring. You are still my everything. Give me time, I promise I will make you proud to call me yours, your daughter", I want to say this holding your wrinkled hands, burying you in my arms and letting us stay close, its just...easier. Better.

If only I were on time on a fateful day, if only I had come to the hospital straight away, then maybe, just maybe these words wouldn't be befriending my diary but my best friend who lay there, soaked in blood, waiting.

As I grew up, and apart, you became an unwanted melancholy, the unwritten fantasy, an incomplete poem, and an intangible love difficult to swallow and impossible to forget.


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