Shortfall

I miss him. Even though I don't really know him, I miss him. It's crazy that the person who has hurt you leaves behind pieces of him to clean up. It makes living life a tad bit difficult knowing that you are missing someone you shouldn't be missing. There are so many contrary thoughts that line up in my mind that in the end it's just about segregating, compartmentalizing and dealing with the loss of a person you cared for a lot.

I think what makes it a little easy is that whenever the need of him arises, it's best to concentrate on the negative parts so that the mind grasps that feedback and your emotions restrain. It doesn't help knowing that apparently we have mutual friends and acquaintances. It doesn't help that I saw him once and froze because all I wanted to do was kiss him. It doesn't help knowing all that I was told about him and saw the truth with my own eyes. It doesn't help that even though I try to hate him, my heart still refuses to. The fight is like a catastrophe. 

Like they say, it gets better. I'm sure it does. I have felt less and less in the past months, of course his actions aid in forgetting him. To love a heart and then learn that it wasn't for real is like getting kicked in the nuts, hard. 

Nostalgia!

In the rush to live a glorious life, do we forget our roots? Something in your life always calls for a tug of nostalgia. I love weddings, I think that's the memory of my childhood I really remember. The sangeet times and all the stupid stunts we did there. The pull of a good song will always end up turning the amp of the atmosphere high. These are the times where people have choreographed performances or dance to the tune of the DJ. Kids these days will never really live the fun times of wedding functions. How all the old ladies of the house sing the corniest or the most naughtiest of songs that leave you flabbergasted.  Songs like Latthe di Chadar, Aloo bare karare, Kala Shah, Din Sagna Da, Bhai Karele Walaya, Chitta kukar, and oh so many of these songs are the backbone to my culture. 

Weddings are the best time for the older ones to share the traditions and I've always been hungry for such legacies. Learning the dholki, playing with spoons, singing songs and celebrating life. The memories keep coming back including how dad used to sing (forced and pleaded) but eventually he did. I wonder looking back how so many memories have escaped me.