This little girl didn’t know anything about Santa. She didn’t even know children could request him to bring exquisite presents of their choice. The magic of gifts or Christmas was never real for her…it existed only in the stories.
She could not visit a single day in her memory when she had received a gift. She lived in a small town, oblivious of any such festivities. The cocoon in which she existed was just wide enough to peep outside and see the commotion of people, wearing new dresses and going somewhere.
The magic of gifts:
Gifts can be so magical and so loving was revealed to her through a story, which she happened to read in one of her schoolbooks. For the first time she could experience the joy of receiving gifts just by reading that story.
She always wanted to know more…why gifts are given…how could she get one and when would she get it!
She could never get an answer for her questions, so she had become quieter but the stormy thoughts in her mind didn’t subside.
Till she saw Santa!
She couldn’t believe that he actually existed. She went closer to touch him and all her friends laughed. But she was now grown up enough to understand all!
Trust in this mystical figure can only be created at a very young age when children look up to their parents and believe all they say, when they learn to be good for the sake of Santa, when they can smile at the make believe world created for them, just for fun! She had missed that stage of her life.
How she yearned to grow up again, to be loved, to be heard, to be understood!
Not just for the gifts she had never received.
But to grow up with that magic, which is renewed each year, to wait for the gifts which were lovingly left under the tree, to look in awe at such a dazzling Christmas tree, to nurture the faith in Santa that comes naturally… to grow up with the feeling of belongingness…to fit into the multi-cultural society that looks down upon certain people.
As an adult, she refused to live according to the expectations of the society. She crawled out of that cocoon, which had made her reclusive. She chose her friends very carefully. She abandoned certain people she didn’t like.
She found great satisfaction in giving. All the gifts that she had not received were given. She started with her own children but her range was much wider than her surroundings.
Christmas was not the only time to create the magic of gifts. Now She knew how to create magical moments of fun… her efforts were just a grain of sand; a drop in the ocean but that thought didn’t deter her efforts.
The innumerable blessings that she continues to receive have steered her towards the path of humility, forgiveness and spirituality. She wonders how she gets the resilience and which force is guiding her trail. The travails of childhood have contributed to her growth in a huge way, she knows that. She doesn’t hold any grudges. She expresses gratitude to all those who neglected her and provided her with the invaluable lessons of care and affection.
These emotions have evolved with time and age. Forgiveness and gratitude were the most hard and arduous to cultivate. She spoke to her inner voice thousands of times; she calmed its shouts as many times and has succeeded in convincing herself that life is content and peaceful if we accept it as it comes.
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This week I had shared my thoughts about the emotions attached with birthdays from the spectrum of a girl who yearned for care, affection and recognition in a society mired in biases. I appreciate all those who shared their insights and memories.
One of my friends, Hariod Brawn said: “…anniversaries of all kinds may evoke strong feelings within one. For myself, the strongest are those dates on which a loved one died.”
When I felt it was strange, he responded…
“Why do you find it strange that anniversaries of deaths are more emotional for me? I think that is a universal and quite natural state of affairs. Is it not?”
I don’t think so. It is not universal.
Death anniversaries could be emotional for those whose loved ones leave after fulfilling all their promises that they had made to themselves and their loved ones.
Death is beautiful only when you have lived your life. When it comes suddenly in the prime of youth, when it leaves behind unfulfilled hopes and desires, it is nerve shattering.
Such death anniversaries become traumatic, not emotional.
Because emotions lie scattered and shattered at such a time, the shards are too piercing, discordant and acrimonious.
Because you are too confused to gather the debris
Because the mourning is deafening, it seems futile, a façade and proves ineffectual
Because a lot of people try to confound you with words that seem hollow and simulated
None of those words soothe you
All that is more prominent and understandable is indignation and exasperation – extreme sense of revolt against destiny or God, whatever you believe in.
When your whole world falls apart, when you have to abdicate the little joys of childhood, when you have to fend for yourself, when your so called well-wishers wait for you to falter and condemn you for your immature acts…
It is at such times that death anniversaries become meaningless.
They bring along harrowing memories and festering wounds, which never heal.
When each day is spent in remembering those lost moments of unfulfilled yearnings,
When each day seems an uphill drive, with steering in the hands of an adolescent,
When faith lies prostrate at the alter of destiny
Such Death anniversaries are NOT emotional; they lose their sheen.
They are distressing; they only afflict pain.
All the positivity and spirituality fades in the face of hunger, which stares at you at such times.
Mourning continues till we meet our loved ones…in Heaven.
Their wailing grew louder
Onlookers stared, consoled
More mourners gathered.
Wailing became unbearable
It hit my heart.
Deep, down the chest
Some pressure, some unseen hand
Oppressed my breath.
Unspoken words, parched throat
But no wails.
I could not wail. Must I?
Do I need to pretend?
Please! Will somebody understand?
Can you detach me from tradition?
Please leave me alone.
Let me feel that cold touch.
I am STILL in mourning.
This poem is an excerpt from my book ‘Sublime Shadows Of Life’ (available at Amazon.com) Here is the link: http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00EBLWR0A
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Trapped in the golden cage
The cage of unfulfilled desires
The cage of love and expectations
The cage with vast vistas,
Each door so welcoming
Yet so deceptive!
The pleasures of caged life
The gratification of cravings
Kept her tightly bound.
With clipped wings she looks around,
Distressed dove later found
That was her life!
A life of tragic torture,
A life of total surrender
In the sea of tears
Facing physical and mental anguish
Suppressed by own desires!
Longing to break free
Yet seeking little moment of glee
Conspiring to grab all
The cage would never open
The golden cage was her fate.
© Balroop Singh.
This poem is an excerpt from my book ‘Sublime Shadows Of Life’ (available at Amazon.com)
You can just click on the name of the book and look at the free sample! You can borrow it FREE if you are a Kindle member.
Sometimes it becomes quite difficult to save yourself from such traps, they appear to be tempting but their delusion dawns on us when it is too late. What are your thoughts about such situations? I would love to hear your views.
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