Seldom is life what you think it ought to have been, and being Destiny’s least favourite child, most that I have desired, little or big, was never given to me in entirety; there was always incompleteness, partial or complete, a hindrance or an outright veering off from what I sought.
They say all that happens has an inherent goodness. I have been repeating this statement to myself for years and, now, I do not know if I truly believe in it or is it a treacherous alibi, cloaked in slow disintegrating layers of comfort, meant to momentarily dab the wound that life continues to inflict upon me.
Oh do not mistake me for somebody hopelessly pessimistic or somebody who has given up on life for I am ‘living’ from one day to another, trudging along, for the lack of a better word. Does that sound like what a pessimist would say? I beg to differ. I used to be quite the positive person around, still am, yet life and her allies have been ganging up on me and hurling bombs of negativity on me and the road that I tread upon leaving gaping holes of despondency and I have no choice but to slip into the trenches.
I have often wondered at Misery’s unconditional love towards me; he never refuses to leave my side and follows me like a shadow everywhere. When after months of happier days I thank Providence for having led Misery astray, that he taps my shoulder and smirking at me tells me in his sombre tone, ‘I was always around you my old friend.’ Such has been my life that I am terrified of happiness. I know for certain that Misery will come along soon, his icy hands will grip my shoulder, his morbid breath will brush my nape and he will whisper to me that we are glued for life.
‘Oh this is how life works’, they tell me. ‘It is a phase’, one reminds me. ‘You got to be strong’, rings in another. How long, I scream out silently. Ain’t it better that I shun the idea of happiness as a permanence? It is not meant for me. Or maybe I should embrace Misery as my only friend and be happy at his permanence. Happiness is a state of mind but where I am concerned misery has rented out a good half of my mind.
Remember the cinema, ‘La La Land’ and the alternate ending therein? The enchanting sound of piano fills the jazz room and a life that could have been rolls by. Every moment could have been different; every decision could have made life not what it was in the room then. How I wish I could have a life that would be otherwise! A life where love would be the singular feeling conquering all demons, a life where I would know for certain that I am living my permanence, a life where I would have someone to share a cup of tea with and a doctor’s appointment, a life where happiness would be subtle, a life where Misery would dwindle into a little speck. No I do not ask much of life-just a little, a reason to be happy and not be terrified unto death that it will come crashing down the next minute. But that’s an alternate epilogue and I mustn’t indulge in brown study.
For now I must clasp Misery’s hand. He is reaching out for me. ‘Take me along old friend and absolve me from the momentary happiness. Let me find warmth in your icy dwelling.’