20 February 2011

My Never-End

It's like a fleeting sort of feeling,
always fickle.
Like you reach for the rope,
and right before you can grasp it tightly
and clench on to it for dear life,
it's gone.
You fall down into the bottomless pit, known as
life.

     I smile when I see my mother and father. After almost eighteen years together and everything they have been through, it's a beautiful relationship they hold so well. Last night as we visited old family and friends reunited, I heard a conversation strike up between my mother and aunt. Now, my aunt is well-known for years to be quite... hated for her nagging personality and showy attitude. I sat nearby, playing a video-game with my cousins. It appeared as if I did not hear their dialogue, yet I have been gifted (and cursed) with noticing everything around me. I never, ever tell people this, so many assume I am actually quite stupid.
     As she made some sly remark as to why I never come over her house anymore (sugar-coated, of course) and the great deal of work I have these days, I observed two things. One was my father. He stood far behind my aunt, juxtaposed beside the chicken kebabs and raspberry cheesecake. He stared, watching intently as my aunt continuously insulted my family and me, and I could feel the retaliation burning inside of him like hot coals within a fiery barbecue. His eyes glinted with recognition that yes, once again she was undeniably commenting on my absence from family gatherings, thanks to the heaps of homework I have each and every weekend. Yet he said nothing, not even one word. He stood there, hunched as if her words bent him down, and I could tell from the expression he held that he was hurt.
     The second thing I noticed was my mother. The conversation continued in Marathi. 
"When was the last time Rucha actually came over? Sid misses her, and she has so much work these days. It's sad, you know?" My aunt had no problem continuing the assault. "Does she even speak to you any more?" My lips sort of pursed when I saw what my mother did next. She raised her body, and arched her neck back to look up at my aunt's over-sized, beady eyes. Of course not in an unusual way, but one in which you could tell clearly what was coming next. She tilted her head to the side and said, "It's funny, you know, how kids grow up? One second they are crawling across the floor, the next, they are heading off to take the SATs. If Rucha has any issue, she comes directly to me. I never had to tell her to do so. And if you are so concerned as to why she never visits, then maybe I should ask you the same about Sid. When was the last time he visited our house? Last summer, is it?" She proceeded to say some other words, but I don't think I heard them. I was too busy analyzing the situation. My mother is a short, stout woman with an attitude. Speaking her mind is what she does best, especially to my aunt. It amazed me the eloquence of her argument, even if she could barely reach her aggressor's face. It seemed as though years and years of practice against family members and competition with my aunt trained her to the point where she could take on any insult. Yet the reinforcement for years...that wasn't the case. It was my mother herself. It was who she is as a person.
     On the way home, it struck me that I was a perfect combination of the two. Shy in situations, much like my father, that do not need to be faced. Combative and rebellious, as my mother would be, in those I felt had to be fought. We ended up actually getting a parking ticket last night. My father fumed with anger and actually yelled at us, and my mother laughed lightly and said, in between her chuckles, "I told you that wasn't a parking space." 
     It is a perfect mixture of practical versus imaginative; serious and caring against light-hearted and giddy that I gained from my parents. Funny coincidence, is it not, that these two polar opposites of people married each other? When I see them fight day after day, I actually see the love they hold for one another. It's not the fact that they argue over every little detail, or their old age, or even the stress of my two-year old brother. No, it's really just one simple thing...love.

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I realized from that point onward that if you really care for someone  and I mean actually care  you would get over your issues and instabilities. Over the fact that you are opposites and may never seem to work out because of the unbendable differences between the two of you. Of course it's much too late to come to this realization now, yet I am looking forward to always remembering it in the future.

That is actually why I have decided to make this my last consistent post for this blog. I don't know when I will be returning, or when I will post next. Yet I hope it will be soon. I need to focus on what lies ahead, and the only way I can do that is if I let go of learning who I am now, and instead trying to shape who I have the potential to become. The last few months, pouring out every last detail about myself, were enjoyable, to say the least. Especially when certain people had the kindness {Melee} to respond to my troubles. But for some reason, I don't think I need it anymore. I might not have found every part of the meaning of me, but I am proud to say that I am very close to it. 

My first post on this blog was entitled "My Start." This one, so appropriately, holds the name "My Never-End." And that's because no one's story ever ends. So with this, I guess it's time not for a goodbye, but a good luck.






You are the one thing
that you will always own,
have, and be close to 
the only thing that matters 
lose yourself
and you have lost it all.





"Love not what you are, but what you may become."
- Cervantes


"For a long time it had seemed to me that life was about to begin--real life. But there was always some obstacle in the way, something to be gotten through first, some unfinished business, time still to be served, a debt to be paid. Then life would begin. At last it dawned on me that these obstacles were my life."
- Alfred D. Souza



"What is life? It is the flash of a firefly in the night. It is the breath of a buffalo in the wintertime. It is the little shadow which runs across the grass and loses itself in the sunset."
- Crowfoot



"Some people come into our lives and quickly go. 

Some people move our souls to dance. They awaken us to new understanding with the passing whisper of their wisdom. 

Some people make the sky more beautiful to gaze upon. 
They stay in our lives for awhile, leave footprints on our hearts, and we are never ever the same." 
- Flavia Weedn 

































Thank you for reading my story.