Personal Essay | Deebasri
In the hushed shadows of the city, where the streets had lost their vibrant hues, I walked back from my classes. Once bustling, Delhi had now taken on an eerie, monochromatic appearance, reminiscent of my distant hometown. The fading charm of the city felt like a haunting melody, each note echoing memories against the cracked, red walls of the college.
The cold grip of the city's winter wrapped around me, offering a paradoxical warmth that tugged at my lips with the hint of a smile. Yet, the smile faded as swiftly as it appeared, for thoughts of you were a tempest that never truly subsided. It's as if you took your version of Delhi with you, leaving me to navigate through a new, unfamiliar terrain alone.
Every journey, whether to the majestic Qutub Minar or bustling Sarojini Nagar, was a labyrinth of uncertainty. The anxiety of choosing the right metro line and the perpetual nagging of whether I had packed all I needed for the trip became a constant companion. My time spent in these locales, though considerable, was often overshadowed by the presence of other souls inhabiting the same space.
While I was endlessly intrigued by the kaleidoscope of lives around me, it was impossible to ignore the stark divide that separated us. When I travelled alone, which is often, I attempted to fade into the background, avoiding glances and unwarranted interactions. If accompanied, I played the role others assigned to me, striving to be the person they envisioned, and seeking to please them by merely being present.
Yet, beneath it all, whether in solitude or in the company of others, one constant remained - the longing for you. Each return to my room became a reflection on whether I had truly experienced the essence of the new place, as I would have with you by my side.
You were meant to be here, immersing yourself in Delhi, endeavouring to become a true Delhiite, even if your stay was confined to your college years. You believed that it was not about the years spent in a place, but about how much you had changed the place and how much it had changed you. It made sense then, as I listened to your dreams. Even now, it rings true, for Delhi has irrevocably changed me. Each time I return home, I feel the absence of the city within me. I no longer feel at home when I'm at home, for I miss you and the moments we shared, now frozen in the past. Every return back to the city evokes a yearning for home, a home that eludes definition and remains a perpetual mystery.
The feeling of homelessness, follows me wherever I go, and your absence exacerbates this constant homesickness for a place I may never truly find. Each facet of my life has become an escape - classes offer respite from the relentless solitude, occasional visits to tourist sites provide refuge from the demands of academia, and my solitary moments within my room shield me from the outside world and the people who occupy it alongside me.
I often wonder if I died with you, and this existence is a purgatory, a never-ending nightmare from which I can't awaken. Yet, the fleeting smiles, nods, and gestures of others when they acknowledge my presence, or when they engage with me, dispel this notion. What they see is the version of me you left behind, unaware of the person I once was.
The city has its own role to play in my life, one that diverges significantly from the role it plays in the lives of others. Would it have truly been different if you had been the one anchored to Delhi, and I the transient tourist when I visited you? Someone who sees only the famous landmarks, oblivious to the city's heartbeats, its quirks, its capricious weather, and the myriad experiences that shape the life of you, a Delhi University student?
I cherish the moments we shared, using them as guiding stars to navigate this life as you wished - to live where you wished, doing what you aspired to. The only choice I had left was to honour your memory and your plan to live life, when I stood in your room, your smiling visage captured in a frame. "He would want you to live your life doing things you want to do," your mother said, as she handed me your belongings after we had cleared your room. But she didn’t know that I didn't have anything planned as there wasn't much of a future left for me anyway.
We were both dying, but I, faster than you. Even completing high school felt like a stretch. Yet, here I am, stranded on this planet, while you have disappeared. Life, it seems, enjoys thwarting routines and overturning expectations. I didn't meet the end when I was meant to, while your heart ceased to beat a mere week after we received the news of my impending demise.
Perhaps it was meant to be this way. Pondicherry was our haven, an ode to you and the life we created together. Delhi, on the other hand, has become my test of endurance, a realm where I must navigate the world without you by my side.
In this intricate tapestry of migration and loss, I find myself woven into a narrative I never anticipated. Each day is a struggle, a battle against the emptiness that threatens to consume me. Yet, amidst the desolation, there are fragments of beauty, moments of grace that pierce through the darkness. Perhaps, in these fleeting moments, I can find a semblance of the life we once shared.
So, I continue to wander, in search of a home I may never find, carrying your memory like a torch, illuminating the path ahead. In the echoes of your laughter, in the shadow of your absence, I find the strength to keep moving, to keep living. In this endless migration of the soul, I remain, a wanderer, weaving my story amidst the tapestry of existence, guided by the light that refuses to fade, even in death.