The UnSaid: Listen to the Silence

 

 

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I call him Lord

I call him God

I call him beloved too…

 

They call me sage

They call me saint

They call me crooked too!!

 

(Translated from my collection of poems in Punjabi, ‘Acchoh Ehsaas’ (Untouched Emotions)

This is my complete story. For me, my beloved has been of foremost importance. I loved him, adored him, dedicated myself to him, but only in my heart; pain of unrequited love never left me alone. I did not have the right to hold his hands, never to say how much I loved him. Yet, in my deepest meditations, he was my idol. Aching, I asked the wisest of all,

 

Read my destiny O hermit

And tell me

When do I find my Love?

 

Love is the grace of God

And is found by Grace

Had I found my Love

Why would I become a hermit

 

I am in stranglehold of tradition

I can’t even be a hermit

If I do not find my Love

I won’t live a second

 

My relationship with his image (not a photograph), gave me a deep sense of peace. Sometimes he seemed to me Lord Shiva, sometimes Christ and sometimes Buddha! He made me one with myself.

But, more painful was living with another man. My ex husband, and father of my only and dead child, demanded divorce when our daughter left this world soon after her birth. To him, I was the monster who killed ‘his’ daughter. Since then, struggling with psychosis, bipolar disorder and panic disorder, not to mention OCD, I have tried to find a worth for my life. This year shall mark tenth birthday for my long lost angel. I had not even named her, so some times I call her Anamika- the unnamed one. Rest In Peace, my love.