Sutured Dreams

A few years after your parents pass away, you start to realise that in a way, they aren't really gone. The things you learnt from them, the traits you subconsciously took from them and the memories you have of them mean that they continue to live through you even if they’re no longer around.    Humble Beginnings When I sit back and remember my mother, I see a superhero in her own right. She was initially brought up in a very rural area in Pathanamthitta. As you can see from this image, the house was basically in the middle of a forest area. My grandparents were both government teachers and back then, it was not a very rewarding job in terms of pay. Making their way up in life was a slow and difficult process that took decades. The family moved around a lot, I assume this was because of government transfer orders. A couple of years were spent in Palakkad. A few in Ernakulam. And finally, a house was bought in Trivandrum which is where my mother would spend the vast majority ...

90% of me is a realist. I see the world for what it is. Billions live in suffering that the privileged choose to ignore. Good things aren't meant to happen to good people. Bad things aren't destined for bad people. The older you get, the more you understand just how inadequate life feels.  But as much as I'd much rather not admit, there is still a good 10% inside me that believes that there is some magic in this world. That somehow, even through the shittiest of times, there is something better waiting for us somewhere. And it is this idealistic optimism that ultimately brings us down to the lowest of lows.  The Light at the End of the Tunnel There are some days in your life that are so unbearably awful that you'll never forget them. The days my parents died are right up there but this day somehow managed to be even worse.  After months of people torturing me, I had officially hit rock bottom. What exactly that rock bottom was is a story for another day, but let's j...