Arrivals and Departures

ARRIVALS

The climax of the anticipation and preparation. The eager wait to be ensconced in all things familiar - the sights, smells and sounds of homeland. The familiarity and warmth of the arms that embrace you. Or the excitement of going to a new country, city or even continent. Of stepping into uncertainty, not knowing what this vacation or relocation bodes. The simultaneous buzz of excitement and anxiety that seizes you as you step into the unfamiliar. 

***

Months of waiting and hours of pain. But there is ecstasy at the end of this agony. Of seeing the tiny creature you created and incubated in your body. Celebrations and jubilation at the addition of the newest member to the family. The excitement of bringing the new one from hospital to home. The new arrival after which life ceases to be the same. Ever. 

DEPARTURES

Preparing to transplant oneself back again. The end of the getaway that was temporary. Overwhelming emotions that eventually find it's way as a trickle down the cheek. Happiness at the memories made and time spent, overcast with the imminent end of it all. The hesitant goodbyes. The collective sigh at the retreating figures, for those remaining behind. Of hoping to see them soon. 

***

The dreaded wait outside the OT or ICU. The endless pacing back and forth. Imagining the worst-case scenarios and yet praying for the best outcome. Sometimes it's a long drawn wait for Death to come calling. And sometimes, a sudden and cruel quirk of fate - an accident, an infection, a sudden downward spiral of health, a heart attack. The goodbyes that one's never EVER prepared for. Coming to terms that the person you knew has vacated the body; that it's the last you will see of them. Of the disbelief that they no longer exist. Of life with them playing as a random slideshow in the head. And imagining a future without them. 

***

Footnote - Airports and Hospitals. They share the irony of being the place that witnesses joy and despair in parallel.

P.S. It has been ages (specifically, THREE whole years!) since I posted here. I was casually checking my blog the other day and alarm bells went off in my head. I, in fact, scrolled through my blog, read random posts and sat in disbelief for a minute (or two). Did I write those? Was it me, really?

I don't know what excuse to offer - well, that's what it'd be - to get writing get away from me. Or vice versa. This is a blog I started in 2006. And although never prolific, I have always come back to it and penned down my thoughts. Since I've turned up after such a hiatus, I won't make tall promises. But I'll try to be faithful to this little piece of myself on the WWW. There's a part of me reflected here, and I would like to keep going for as long as I can.

Magic

He was making some money now. In this day and age, when people hardly had time to lift their heads from the devices in their hands, he made some money. It surprised him too. Perhaps it was because his was a dying art. Magic. Well not dying, really. Just that he did not know how to make money with his gift. Anything commercialized well would sell, he knew. But he had inherited his father's simplicity along with his talent. He was not zealously ambitious, had no drive to be famous or earn heaps. His father had barely made ends meet. And so did he. At least he had no family to feed. Alone and wandering, he made with what he got. A one-man show, in every sense.

It had been only a few days in this new spot. He usually targeted small parks, where he could put up his acts. He would mostly perform during late afternoons and evenings, when people would be out and, perhaps, be willing to be amused. It was becoming harder to draw people's attention and interest. People had their smart phones - their life partner, entertainment centre, book, guide, friend and much more rolled into one! But his amiable disposition and earnest love for magic reflected in his work. People would occasionally pause and see him. At the end of his little performance, he would walk around with his hat so that people may appreciate him (monetarily). He had noticed that if parents were around with kids, the odds were in his favour. 

It was one such generous day, and he had just completed his performance. Being a weekend, the turnout was better than usual. His hat had become heavier than normal too. He waved, the audience gently clapped and everyone dispersed. He noticed that there was a boy still lingering around. He seemed a bit shy, and it seemed like he wanted to say something. He smiled at the boy, as he was sorting his earnings for the day. The boy smiled back. The boy was shabbily dressed, but his face radiated innocence. "You liked my magic?" 

The boy was thrilled at being addressed. "Of course Magic chacha! I love magic. Umm...I can call you that, right? Magic chacha?" 

"Of course, of course... you can. So you love magic, huh? What is your name?"

"I am called Chotu by everyone". 

"Okay Chotu.... so what is it about magic that you like?"

"Whenever I watch you perform, I am amazed at how you bring things out from thin air; and how things disappear or break - but you bring it back or put it together!"

"Oh, is that so? Well, it's not very easy you know. It takes a lot of work and discipline to be a good magician. You think you can work hard enough, Chotu?"

"Yes, yes.... I absolutely will, I can. Will you teach me magic, Chacha?"

He let out a hearty laugh. "Ah, so you want me to teach you too? Good good."

"Yes Chacha. But I think I would like to make some small changes to the acts, if you don't mind. That is what I want to learn".

This is getting interesting, he thought. A boy is going to tell me how to better my acts!

"Oh, is that so? May I know what changes would you like?"

"Yes Chacha, definitely. I need to understand if those changes can be made."

"Okay, okay - sure. Go ahead, let me hear them."

"I love how you pull a bunny out of the hat. I think bunnies are cute. But, do you think you can teach me to pull biscuits out of a hat?"

"Biscuits?! Why would people want to see you pull biscuits out of a hat?"

"Chacha, actually, it's for Munna - my younger brother. He is too small to understand things. When he gets hungry, he just keeps crying. Now, you tell me Chacha - can we explain to him that there is no money and we can't buy food? Mai and me, we can go without food. But he doesn't understand. So if I could learn to pull biscuits out of a hat, he could eat that. He would stop crying, I think."

"Oh. So.... do you go hungry often, Chotu? Where is your father? Does he not earn?"

"No Chacha. Mai told me that one day Baba disappeared and left us alone, to fend for ourselves. Which brings me to the next act. You normally make a ball disappear, and then you bring it back, right? Is there any way you can bring a person back? I think it would help to bring my Baba back. We don't know where he disappeared to. From that day the smile from Mai's face disappeared as well. I think if Baba came back, the smile would come back too."

He choked and tears welled in his eyes. 

"It would be tough, you know. Bringing back a person..."

Chotu interrupted him "I thought so too. Well, there's one act which I think, needs no change. The one where you pull a coin from behind someone's ears? That is perfect! I think that once I master that, I will be able to pull out some notes too. And then we'd have some money to live with. I don't wish for a lot you know - just some money. So that we can live. I don't want to get greedy - Mai says that one must not be greedy; God punishes greedy people. Do you think so too?" 

"I, well... yes... I agree with your Mai..."

"I will try my best to learn, Chacha. Will you teach me the acts, with these changes?"

Looking into those naive eyes, he could not muster anything except a very weak "Yes".

Chotu beamed with happiness and pride, not being able to believe his good luck. "Chacha, you know what, Mai says that all this magic is nonsense! Can you believe that? Now I am going to learn this from you and surprise her one day. You wait and see! When can we start?"

"Let us start next week, okay?"

"Okay. I have to go now, Chacha. But you will be here, right? Next week?"

"Yes. I will." 

"Okay then!" 

Saying this, Chotu frolicked away.

He packed his things and started walking. Walking away as fast as he can and as far away as his legs would take him.

Firsts

“Something about first love defies duplication. Before it, your heart is blank. Unwritten. After, the walls are left inscribed and graffitied. When it ends, no amount of scrubbing will purge the scrawled oaths and sketched images, but sooner or later, you find that there’s space for someone else, between the words and in the margins.”


- Tammara Webber

Now that's a quote I loved. There's something about all 'firsts' in our lives. And why are our firsts so important? Perhaps because it is the first of its kind – sets our expectations, becomes our benchmark, our immediate point of reference.

The first love, the first car, the first impression of a new city, the first time you talked to someone, the first drink you tried, the first trip to a place, the first smoke you had, the first date, the first job, the first live show/concert you saw, the first time you went on a plane, the first kiss, the first time you walked into your office/school, the first time you wrote with a pen, the first time you got appreciated, the first dish you cooked, the first time you drove a vehicle, the first pregnancy, the first salary you earned, the first time you went on stage…

But how many firsts of these do you actually remember? Not many. Of course, some because they are among the many mundane ‘firsts’ we achieve. Some, because they weren’t really memorable – it could be something you want to actually forget! Very few ‘firsts’ are treasured, remembered wistfully, appreciated silently. And first love is something like that. With luck (?) it may be your last. Else, you will find space between the words and margins.