rishikesh is where my mom wanted to go for her vanaprastha . . . only she dint live long enough. she wasnt religious. a nonbeliever, actually. but rishikesh to her was this place with a pleasant weather up in the hills . . . no pollution, and better still, no family to look after.
she never wanted a family. one mistake was to get married. was never forgiven for that mistake. she never wanted a child. she told me that she wanted her own life. but she never could have one.
wish i could give her life back to her.
from her i learned that you should not compromise on anything that you want in life for others. you die a sad death. there are happy deaths and there are sad deaths. hers was a sad death. although she never realized how she was dying, she still had many unfulfilled wishes. many.
i have many wishes too. i will try to fulfil them in this lifetime. because, unlike you, i don't believe in an afterlife. wish i were a hindu. then i could be born as a butterfly away from the reach of cruel children. again, somewhere in the hills.
so, if i ride my bike to the hills tomorrow, don't blame me. i will be doing it for my mom. because that's something i wish for. doing something for the memory of my mom.
my mom i never got the chance to know.
i never saw my mom in you. you were always like the younger sibling. wayward, lacking discipline. wish i could cane you sometimes. cane you into sanity. back to sanity? or maybe you were never sane at all? maybe you were this insane little girl roaming around the lake, testing the murky water for pollution and waiting for the moon on top of that hill.
i saw in you a lot of unbridled energy . . . which i used to get back on my own two feet. so when i moved ahead . . . i left you weaker, while i was strong. fresh as a young gorilla ready to lick the world single-handed. who said that? Carl Muller?