A Rambling Heart

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It’s my fault really.

I spent close to three months yelling at anyone who would listen that they didn’t care to listen.

So why am I annoyed that they want to listen now?

Cause I don’t want to talk. I don’t know what to say. I don’t think any of it makes sense and I feel worn out by the prospect of sorting it all out.

Let’s get things straight. Yes, I want to say goodbye. Yes, I need to say goodbye. I need to think of the past, pick out the things that mattered and wrap them up nicely in a corner of my mind lest they perish.

But that doesn’t mean that my life is going to stop for it. Which yes, sucks.

So when I walked in here, I couldn’t shake off the annoyance that I didn’t have a one track mind. I wasn’t sad. I was happy. Who knows? Maybe it’s one of those little universe tricks called timing. All that was going through my head was that I had just done something VERY brave less than 24 hours ago, and I was bloody proud of myself.

Home? Yeah. That could wait.

But you’ve got to get to it eventually, right? I mean, there is only so much you can voice note your friends about before they begin to ask you about how you are ‘feeling’. Friends are so funny that way, they almost never know what you really wanna talk about. But they try, so props for that!

Speaking of friends, I got a call from one pretty soon after I landed. We’d been planning to meet for months and I was actually looking forward to it.

“So what do you wanna do?” he asked me.

“I’m cool with anything really,” I replied, as always. I mean, I just am.

“But there must be someplace you want to visit for the last time,” he insisted.

“Sure, and I’m pretty certain you wouldn’t wanna go to those places,” I said.

He insisted yet again, I told him my short list, he guffawed and said HELL NAW. Long story short. Moving on.

“I thought you’d wanna go to Kuwait Towers,” he said.

“Why?!” I asked.

NO ONE goes to Kuwait Towers. Like, I’m pretty sure even tourists are advised to avoid the place. It is so underwhelming that it shouldn’t be called by two such powerful nouns, as though it is the most important thing to experience in the country.

I’d been there once, when I was like nine. He had been there once too. We decided to go anyway, because it’s like on the currency notes and all that.

I don’t really know if it was a bad decision. I mean, of course the place was anything but impressive, but I liked looking through the glass at the blue and green tiled domes. It reminded me of the Miss World crown. I used to like watching those things, ya’know.

Now if you don’t really know what this whole ‘phenomenon’ is, let me just take a quick minute to explain it to you. You go to a really elevated floor (I don’t remember the number and I don’t want to) stand at the edge on this VERY SLOWLY revolving ground and witness an aerial view of the country. I promise you it is nothing remarkable, it’s just one of those why the hell not kinda places.

I was in a why the hell not kinda mood anyway. So avoid my contempt-filled tone, I was actually really glad we decided to go.

I kept thinking how insignificant it all looked, blotches of land and road. It didn’t look important enough to spend an entire lifetime in. Yet, we did. I’ve spent one lifetime there. You know those songs where the singer goes on about his friends who never ‘made it out of that town’ (Okay, I swear this was NOT an Adele reference)? I think they were all secretly talking about Kuwait. Like, they must have been!

But let’s not forget my friend in all these thoughts. We just hung out at the towers, y’know (I just really wanted to use that line!). But it was nice, in months and months where I shut myself up trying to find a space to just be, never did I think that I would find my being with another person.

We talked about growing up where we did, Aqua Park, which neither of us were cool enough to go to as kids, and just, life. I mean, at the end, that’s just what it all is anyway, right?

I kept thinking of my dad’s car traversing those roads I saw before me. It felt like a game in my mind. I could pick it up from one place and drop it at any other. I placed it between tall buildings for the important days, between the shorter ones for the mundane other 360. I placed it between the wider roads for when the music blared loud enough to make even his speed seem a little wilder (God bless you for being a safe driver though, dad!). I placed it next to USSs (Unidentified Standing Structures) because there are always so many of those in Kuwait, and they remind me just how hexyle this country is, and how random life is.

You can say it’s random in a way. How else would you be able to describe all of this? It’s just random.

There is a lot here that I’d wanna say goodbye to, y’know. But it’s hard to block out the noise. I have been at the receiving end of some of the most SDLGNSLKDGNSDKLNSLKNHGLKSNGSKLDNLKSNDSDLKNLK questions over the past few months including but definitely not limited to, Are you still attached to the place? (Are you still attached to your brain!?), What do you even have left there anyway? Maybe it’s time for a new beginning? (This one is almost like a statement but they put in the question pause to make it seem like they are giving you a choice), You can go back someday if you really want to, right? But isn’t Bangalore home now? There is nothing to miss there besides good food, right (insert ignorant annoying laughter)?

And the best of the lot, the infamous ‘You are just holding on to a memory, Soumya.’

Okay there, Socrates. But did you ever consider that some memories are meant to be held on to? Did you ever, for a moment, just pause to TRY and open up that tiny thing you call your brain to think that I am AFRAID that I will FORGET if I don’t have a container for these memories? You may not understand and I can’t blame you for it. I know that the places don’t look like they used to and the people are not the people who were but there is something about land and sky that just goes a little beyond that. It’s something called roots. And mine are here. And something called wings. Here is where mine sprouted.

So I DARE you to come at me with another RIDICULOUS question or comment. If you don’t understand so be it, but don’t you even FATHOM that you can stand there and throw your pathetic platitudes at me and understand how I feel in five minutes.

Hey, I’m not really mad at you, ya’know. I’m just very sad. And I need to be that way right now. And just don’t need you telling me how I am supposed to feel.

Let me just do this my way, and in case you haven’t noticed, NO, I don’t know what my way is. But I am figuring it out the only way I can, by living it. So let me live it, and I’ll talk to you when I know what to say.

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