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| July 20, 2004
, 3:22 AM |
Imagining Death
I leave tomorrow for the hospital. I know I will not return. There is much I want to say to you and I only wish I had the strength and time to write to each one of you to tell how much I love you. To tell you how much I will miss you. To tell you of all those things I didn’t when I could. The things I loved about you, the things that irritated me, the things that you would do that would bring me joy, the things that you did that gave me pain, the things that you talked about that made me wonder, thoughts, perspectives, your feelings I failed to comprehend, the feelings I did comprehend, the mind games that provided endless hours of contemplation, the love that passed by so many times, the things that I wanted to express that I couldn’t, the things I wish I had done that would bring you joy, those little conversations that went nowhere, those smiles, the tears, the care free laughter, the laughter in spite of what I felt, the dreams I once had, the dreams I still do, the change in the wind, the change in the moods, puzzles that I loved, theories I didn’t understand, theories I understood, the games that life played and the hours I spent trying to figure them out, the falling of leaves, the singing of birds, the sea, hours of loneliness, the need to be alone, the wishes I made as a child, god, the wonder of a new-born child, the mindless babyspeak, the sand I rolled in as a kid, work and the joy it gave, work and the wish to escape from it, those vadiyams and chakkalu granny made which I used to guard as a child, granny how I loved her, my grandfather I wish I knew better, my father I never knew as a child, my father I loved after I grew older, my mother..the soft comfort of her lap, her hand that seems even magical when she touches me to suddenly relieve me of all the worries that occupy my head, the endless love of my parents, the endless love I feel for my sister, our fights as children, the way it would hurt me when she cried, my little brother, how I used to bully him and make him push my tricycle, how heartbroken his pain made me….the time I spent with them…the time I didn’t spend with them, the sunrise that lost its magic, the sunrise I want to see tomorrow, the quiet nights of contemplation, the cigarettes, the drunken revelry, those awfully badly sung songs we all sang when drunk, the smell of fresh coffee in the morning, my arguments with my parents, water, my best friend, the things he would say, his abstract theories on life, the happiness and pain we shared, the stolen time when we bunked college, his marriage, My first girl, that first kiss, the memories of the times, the first time we made love, the soft comfort of her, the first day she told me, in the rain with her, that stolen kiss in the lift...drenched and mad with happiness, unusual situations, mad plans, chased trains, the bad badam kheer at tastebuds, the stupid comedies we played on stage, Angel Eyes, Annie’s Song, movies, romantic comedies, drama in movies, the thrill of adrenaline in empathy, the almost real emotions, chocolate ice-cream, chocolate, cinnamon toast crunch, my first thrill of driving at 120mph, my first paycheck and the pride I took in it, the thrill of driving the first bike I bought after saving everything I could for a year and half, raw mangoes, palm fruit eaten till I was stuffed, Jackie my first dog, coconut water, that one day in Bombay, gateway of India in the rain, the blind walk, the joy of playing in the water in the farm, Saturday afternoons after school, the relief after exams, a flower outside the window…the painting in jehangir art gallery, the shortage of money in college, the long evenings spent in idle talk, long phone conversations about nothing, my grandfathers first house, stolen night outs on tank bund with chicken and cigarettes, imitating statues on tank bund to shock the passerby at 2am in the morning, Napoleon Bonaparte my second dog that died only 28 days after it was born, mythological stories mum told me as a kid, ganesh chaturdi in belgaum, the treks with moodi and tiffins on the hills of belgaum as a kid, the fear of coming to America, the fear of failure in my first business, the music…aah music, cloves, gadgets…my first laptop, the women I loved and lost, the women who loved me, the women I still love, the books, wodehouse, writing plots that thrilled me, business presentations, disappointments in business, joys in business, needless advice I love giving, needless advice I hate receiving, seinfeld, yes minister, sitcoms, pizza….……………………there is just so much….there is just much…..there is just so much to live for. |
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July 22, 2004 
