17th September 12:28AM (A Memory)
I remember my younger bua used to look so pretty when I was young. She was the most prettiest woman I had seen in my entire life. She was just gorgeous. And she was so kind. She was the kindest woman I had seen. She used to take care of us, take care of me. I remember one night that spent in Hasanpur. I remember a tree and we were sleeping outside near it and there was a river flowing in the background and we could see the stream from where we were sleeping. I think that was the most beautiful night I have ever experienced in my life.
I was sick. My father had taken me to a doctor is Samastipur. We were returning to our home in Patsa. But when we reached Hasanpur, it was late night and my elder Bua asked us to stay the night at her home. I don’t remember what I ate. It must have been something good, because I was happy when I went to sleep. And that tree looked so kind, It was like it was waiting for me to come to him and he was going to take care of us. That night I remember a lot. I have remembered it at least a thousand times by now. I want to experience that all over again. Sleeping under a massive Banyan tree with a river stream in the background, the place we were sleeping at was a lot above the river level, the river was at a steep slope. I could here nothing but extreme silence and cold. The cold which was soothing and relaxing, which was perfect for a good night sleep.
I don’t remember the morning, how we went back to Patsa. But all I remember is that beautiful night.
The night I still dream of. After I have lived my life. I want to die there, sleeping under a big tree with a river in the background telling me to sleep and they will take care of me.
Yes, Hasanpur is also the place where my brother got his leg broken in front of me. Although, I don’t recall either blaming the place or myself. I recall him having a lot of fun, just a few days before my cousins wedding.
Yes, it’s the same cousin I had sex with when I was a child. Although I don’t think we can call that sex. I didn’t have a developed genitalia, I guess. Although I remember having fun being intimate with her. When I was a teenager and I used to go to Patsa and she was there I used to crave her. I used to crave her intimacy I used to wish that we could be alone and I could spend some time with her.
Although it never happened again. I became a little creep. I remember when I was a teenager I used to sleep besides her, and when she would be deep sleep I would cuddle her. When she would realize what is happening she would turn and twist but she never confronted me. She never told me not to cuddle her. I don’t know what to make of it, did she ever again wanted to be with me. I know it was a childish play for her, asking me to get naked with her then sleeping on top of her and thrusting my penis inside her. But did she wanted to do that again. Because I did, I didn’t loved her. All I had was respect for her. A lot of respect she had seen so much in life by then. She was a beautiful and gorgeous girl who was fearless, always spoke her mind and didn’t like being controlled by anyone.
She could have burned the whole world down if something didn’t happen to her liking. I loved that at least. She cared about me a lot. Although later because we had been so much apart and had no contact that all of it seemed a distant memory. It felt like she didn’t even knew me and how close I felt to her.
But it was fine, after a point I never thought of her as someone I could like to have sex with. But for some a reason a small desire was always there to spend some time with her.
Maybe it has shaped me in a bad way that the person I want to have intimate relationship needs to be very caring of me. But I could do anything.
Because I remember she would take care of my every tantrum. Even when my grandfather, grandmother and my mother would give up. She would do her best to accommodate to my every wish. It was like she was my hero. I was a helpless kid and she was my everything. Although that changed as time went on. But I am still there a small helpless kid with tantrums and I expect her to again travel to miles to get me something that I have desired that too in the middle of the night.
I Sometimes think, More than my father and my mother, my relatives have taken care of me. My Nani is the supreme in that list. She literally gave birth to me, she took care of me as her child. Today it hurts that I can’t return her any favors when she is in such a old age without my Nana, and soon Chandani will leave. But I wish I could take care of her more than anything.
Right now, I had this thought If I get a job, maybe I could I ask her to stay with me. Although it will be a cruelty asking her to leave Madhopur, the place she has spent her whole life to place where the only know person to her would be me.
There is just another way, that is to visit her once in a while, but we never know when could that while be the last. She has grown old. I never used to think of her as a old woman, she always looked the same age as my mother. But now, after the death of my Nana, she looks old. She looks very old. That scares me. I don’t talk to her, because I feel like she is not my Nani that used to take care of me all those times.
But she does reminds me that she is the same person whether I agree or not. I wish I could be more useful to them but I am not.
I remember being selfish, selfish towards her, towards my Nana even my Baba. It hurts, given that how much they have sacrificed for me. They don’t come from a well to do family. Still they managed to give us back so much. I can never repay their debts.
And maybe its not necessary to repay their debts. But to carry forward their legacy. My Nana is not survived by any son. That makes us his forbearers. I wish to carry forward their name, if not in the entire world at least in the towns they lived his life.
I loved Anvesha a lot, but she didn’t want a child of her own. And that’s completely opposite of what I want. I want to have a kid early in my life, to cherish his/her good years and be competent enough to help them when they leave me to make their own life. Old age never helps, if I am old by then I wouldn’t be able to support them the same way.
And whatever the world might say about doomsday and environment, and child policies. I would say fuck you to that. Society should never control the legacy. As a species our survival is our progeny. I die to be reborn as my child. My child is me. I can die peacefully knowing that there is someone part of me, who will stay even when this body of mine dies.
Leaving behind a part of me is what makes death peaceful. My brother’s death hurts me because he couldn’t leave anything, I can’t remember him by any piece of him, because there is nothing left of him. Maybe it’s me who is left of him. It’s us. But If I die without a child, now that would be a tragedy, Because I will erase the legacy of my father and my grandfathers. I need to survive till I can procreate and help my progeny to survive in this world. My progeny will make this world ours again.
I want to do nothing but just have good life and give my progeny a good life, it’s just that the definition of good life keeps changing. Also, I don’t know if I should marry someone I love like Anvesha and compromise on my desires and live a life that allows for one kid. Or marry someone I will never love, a girl from my culture who would agree to have as many children as I desire. Although that is also not set in stone, it is possible that person would also have their own agenda.
Anvesha is the keystone, If I couldn’t love her enough to keep her. There’s no point in wasting time. I should just focus on my career and making money and I will get any girl I like from Bihar from our community who would agree to live with me the way I want.
Of course, I will care for her and maybe eventually if not love at least respect her enough to fulfill her every desire. But for some reason I don’t want that anymore. I just want one person that is Anvesha. I don’t want to imagine a life apart from her.
But let me tell you straight up, that’s a temporary feeling and a lie. And writing a lie is the most evil thing that you can do for yourself. Because when you write a lie, there is a part of your brain which accepts them as truth because the language part of brain is very complex and evolved.
Anyways, keeping rest aside. I have had a relatively healthy childhood and teenage, where everyone has loved me, cared for me and respected me.
My adulthood was going the same way, I had a loving girlfriend. But now that it has changed there is some distraught. But I am hopeful soon something will happen that will set everything straight.
