Letters to Sylvia Plath #3

You once said that you thought if you walked the streets of New York all night, some of the city’s mystery and magnificence might rub off on you. And do you know what, I think it did.

You and your world is a mystery to me. I understand the sadness, the misery, the pain, maybe because I have dealt with it first hand. But you are indeed a magnificent mystery.

I crossed this prison today, not much of a prison as it is a rehabilitation center. What strikes me most about that place is this poem illustrated on its walls, done the way graffiti is done. I did a bit of research on it and discovered that the poem is penned by a female convict. She wrote it for her beloved who is jailed in the same place, but they are separated for some reason. She talks of how she writes all day long of their love, of their lives, of the walls that separate them. She writes of the pain she is undergoing from their separation all morning and all night. But in spite of all this, she ends it on a positively optimistic manner.

Subah likhti hoon, shaam (mei) likhti hoon, subah kabhi toh honi hai.”

(I write in the morning, in the evening, the sun will shine for us again)

She still hopes for a reunion, for a fairy tale ending. I think you would have really liked this graffiti. I wish I could’ve shown you this place.

One thing I have learned till now is, humans can survive without water and food alright, but when they lose hope, they lose the battle. They lose themselves and suddenly the curtains start to close.

Did you have hope, Sylvia? That no matter what happens, it would be alright. Eventually.

It makes me think if we are all kidding ourselves. What if nothing’s alright in the end, and what if that’s just it and we have to deal with it. Why does a sad ending bother us so much? Why can’t we be content with a sad ending. Why does our heart always seek more? Why does the end scare us so?

With each second we are nearing our end. And that should not scare us.

Did it scare you? The thought of being so close to ending it all? The thought of your children living without you? Were you scared in your last moments?

How many bridges did you burn? How many people did you help? Were you compassionate?

Was your marriage all that marriage is made out to be? I see my parents and look at how unhappy they are. They are also in acute misery, one only they can rescue themselves from. And I don’t want that. I don’t want such a marriage, I don’t want to live my life in misery. And I absolutely don’t want to live it with someone who causes me misery.

If Ted made you miserable, why didn’t you have the strength to leave him? Was it because of your children? I know my mother stayed with us only because of me and my brother.

Questions bug me, all these existential ones and some frivolous ones too. Like what did you eat? Did you have a song you could cry to? Did you have a song you could dance to? Did you dance? Did you enjoy sports?

Sometimes when I feel sad, I feel closer to you. When I am in pain, I feel like I am becoming you. But sadness and pain cannot be the only thing that your life was made of. Why doesn’t the world talk about the happy moments in your life? I am sure there were some.

The word should talk more of the happy you, the merry you. But this just seems completely moronic. Because all that the world remembers is the severe pain you suffered all your life long. That’s all that we know, and that’s all that I am becoming and it can’t be so.

I will discover happy, the cheery you and I’ll hold on to it tightly. The sadness needs to stop. I am sure in moments like this one, you would say, “I am done cribbing about this. The clear blue sky is waiting for me, and I’ll not be stopping anytime soon.” And I am sure you would have karate chopped the shit out of anyone who stopped your trail of awesome.

What you didn’t know, however is that, people like us? We feed on pain. Pain is not an emotion to us, pain is a part of us. Pain is us. No matter how much we think we can control our life, the devil owns us. And there’s nothing we can do about it.

It’s like when I am happy, life’s like, “oh she’s happy, better get her.” and just like that the pain returns. I think I need to understand that no matter how hard I try, I cannot discard this hurt. I just have to accept this as part of me, and dare, just dare to believe everything will be alright in the end.

Here’s to the magnificent mystery we all are, all our hearts are. Here’s hoping we are still standing when this storm passes. Here’s hoping, alongside the mess, we’ll be standing strong, against all odds, against everything.

Here’s hoping that just in between the black and white, there’s still some grey left to hide in.


Image Credits: pixels-memories.blogspot.com


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