Some goodbyes, irrespective of their recurrence on umpteenth occasions, are not just hard; they kill you. They kill you every time you say them, and the very inkling of them kills you even before you really utter them. The mere thought that every welcome has a goodbye to it seems to take away a hefty amount of joy that a welcome carries. But you are prudent enough to look on the brighter side of the things. You welcome people, spend time with them, and frame memories. Memories, which become both the reason for and your armor against the atrocities of such goodbyes. If you really pay attention to things, you’ll observe how sheer deceitful these memories are – acting as both the poison and the antidote to our sufferings.
Delusive seems to be the very notion of time and utterly preposterous our predicament at its disposal. The few minutes after goodbye appear longer than the days spent together. You wonder if that’s really possible. No matter how hard you try to convince yourself with the promise to meet again, and that this distance will change nothing as such, and that time heals almost everything (which of course, it does); nothing alleviates your anguish at that moment. You try hard to look at the surroundings trying to console yourself by looking at the people around, you switch the Television set on and stare blankly at it, you plug-in your earphones and play your favorite track and you lose track of the number of times it has looped let alone the lyrics, pages of the book appear illegible. Nothing really helps. All that you really crave for is one more glimpse, just one more.
Moments spent together, both the happier ones and even not quite same so, bring back just pain. It is only then you realize that no matter how much you try to do so, happiness can never be recreated with the same intensity. It is impossible to do so especially when you are alone. Of all the things a man is capable of creating alone, perennial happiness certainly is not among them. You can build memories when you are alone, but true happiness comes only with togetherness. You understand the significance of that person. You fathom the power of human relationships.
You ring up the person and this urge to cry out loud, to tell them how badly you are missing them, rushes from within. The person on the other side of the line feels the same. You both know it, and you know that the only way it can be dealt with is to try to ameliorate the other person. It’s the only way we understand that how vulnerable we are to all these trivialities had it not been for the collaboration we exhibit in dealing with it. I am talking about the first conversation after such goodbyes. If you recall any such, you’ll find that you just hang up the call after trying to pacify the person on the other side and you do not say goodbye at the end of such call. You just hang up and lose yourself in the sea of memories salting it further with your tears .
But then, you get up stronger than always, and embark on many more journeys. For where our lives are concerned, all that really makes sense is the number of such goodbyes. As sardonic as it may sound, but these somber goodbyes are what make our lives meaningful, and worth telling the stories.
For every such goodbye, and to more on their way.
With a hope to be stronger the next time, and with the conviction that I’ll fail miserably at it. For there lies the beauty of a goodbye, to leave you bereft of the person; and to make you succumb to the misery of the yearning to meet again, every time. Every single time.