I just finished watching 'The Watcher' and I don't know. It's 4:05 a.m. The day will break soon and I thought that I just wanted to get a few things out of my system. I want to know where my mom is. She passed away but where did she go? Where is she? What happened to her? I don't want some abstract, conceptual idea of life and death. Her. Specifically her. Where is she? I am wearing her rings and her ear-rings. I wear her clothes. I use her bed linen and cutlery. Sometimes when things go dismal, I use her instinct. But unlike her, I have not taken on many burdens of family and society. Where did she go?
From the treadmill, you can see the slope of Pali Hill. I usually go to the gym at night. You can see little squares bathed in butter-yellow light - expensive flats where people are sitting down to their posh dinners. But beyond all that- beyond the cars and the trees and people who are walking up and down the slope, there's a night. Darkness. It's full and lush and dripping. I wonder what stays there in the night - in teh darkness. All my days where I just scrape myself through one hour to another without a to-do list- does it come from there? The people I haven't met, he projects that I haven't worked on, the half-chewed experiences I will have, the anger that is yet unerupted, the pain that is still nascent - is it there? In that darkness beyond the hill? Is that where my mum is?
No answers. Never any answers. Yesterday my neighbor loaned me a book of poems 'Jasmines in her Hair' by Kalpesh Desai. I read a few verses - they are about unrequited love and all that. Whatever verses I read. Maybe there is something else on some other pages - but much of what gets into poetry is about 'what could have been'.
Maybe that's the darkness. It's love.
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