Metro Diaries: Of Healers & Keepers
I disconnected the call and looked at the screen. Call duration : 0: 42 seconds it displayed. I smiled as I read that. It was a challenge for me everyday, to wait for her to break my record and for me to break hers. Something that is unfathomable, but is true.
I cannot imagine a moment when my mother would have hated me per se, but a strong dislike was definitely there. On the contrary I can even remember some very amazing moments we have had together till the ugly facet of her life revealed itself to me. Since then I became the mirror of life for her, showing her the bitter truth every time she looked at me.
I signified disappointment for her for I was everything that she wanted to be but could never be. I was married to a person who was not my choice just like her. I lead an unhappy married life just like her. But unlike her, one day I chose to walk away from it all with my head held high. I didn't care about social stigma or the so called family who would be let down. All I knew was I had to live and I deserved a better life than this hell.
At thirty I quit a flourishing career when things went downhill for me health-wise and personally. She has been contemplating it since she had been thirty and still not able to do it. She undergoes torture daily in various forms ranging from a horrid boss, pesky colleagues, nosy neighbours, over demanding husband, social pressures of attending parties and her own desires of wanting to do things she loved.
A writer, a dancer , a voracious reader, a wonderful baker, an amazing chef, a superb dress designer and tailor all into a closet was how she existed. Stifling her dreams and desires one by one every moment till none of them remained. Today she feels frustrated and I become the victim of her frustration.
She kept giving in for long till there was nothing left in her to give in and now expects me to do that which I completely refuse. That hurts her the most, for perhaps she wanted me to be a replica of hers in every sense but I turned out to be an alter ego. A complete contrast to what she is, one who know what I want from life and am willing to go to any extent for it.
Having recently moved away from home for all the good reasons she tries to call me everyday just to live up to her belief of being updated about my life but can barely hold onto a conversation for more than 45 seconds. That's the longest we have ever spoken for it never goes beyond the usual hi, hello and how are you. I don't remember when I stopped sharing or when she stopped caring perhaps, which was first no one knew. Maybe it was when she stopped listening or when I felt it was of no use.
But these phone calls are therapeutic, they help me heal. For they let me know that she is a broken soul herself, perhaps as broken as me or worse than me and it is that brokenness in her that makes her behave like this towards me. I remind myself how easy it is to hold a grudge and how difficult to forget. How those 9 months spent in her cocoon ensure that we still are tied with an invisible umbilical chord. And that love, is the only healer in this world. That is what I try to give her back every time.
I had promised her once when she had hurt me bad, I will never ever hurt you back. Do whatever you like and she had promised the same. I am a keeper, once again unlike her. I keep my promise daily and keep healing myself while she breaks her promise daily and keeps on hurting herself.