Ignominy of being forgotten.
It was long long ago that I read a story written by Anita Desai that beautifully dealt with the above said – ignominy – the shame and disgrace in being comfortably forgotten.
The death-drop – the sinking feeling in your stomach when you think about the possibility that your friends/family/acquaintances could simply carry on – without you. Not after making peace with missing you, but rather forgetting to miss you.
The feeling of being dispensable, forgettable, replaceable – almost denying you your past presence.
Have I felt this way before?
I am, but a shadow of what I was.
My body still flaunting exaggerated curves;
Full breasts – expectant of something that, now, will not happen.
Dull aches and pains in my joints and hips;
painfully reminiscent of the inkling of life inside me – gone by.
Veins in my arms, with fading blue knots on them
reminding me of the innumerable pokes I dared.
Toe nails with no paint on them
bringing back memories of the day I decided.
The lump in my throat
the void in my gut – all too real to ignore,
the perfect absence you left.
Things will change – they say
A spot of sunshine, a rainbow, a song;
Good food, happy evening with friends and time.
We know how hard it is – they say.
I wish they knew.
Without you, I am but a shadow of what I was.
The only thing I have really felt jealous of – girls who can sing.
I am supposed to have a good voice and know that I can sing well. But my voice refuses to behave when I stand up in front of a crowd. I remember standing proudly in front of crowd long long ago and being horrified when I could not hold the tune or my breath, for that matter.
It has been my biggest failure.
It has been decades since the incident and the humiliation never left me. I have never again been able to be the subject of praises for my lovely voice or my soulful singing.
It is heart-wrenching to see girls who have the courage to stand up and sing like they don’t have a care in the world.
For now, in my newer social circles, I am the only one who knows that I can sing.
Do you know how hard it is to gather the courage, pick up yourself, time and again – only to be disappointed again?
Do you know how hard it is, when you have no one to blame but yourself?