The sound of the heavy rain filled my ears. It was raining beautifully outside. You know those rains, where you would gladly go and stand still, let your soul soak in the driving drops and let the rain wash away the pain and the baggage. But here I am laying on my bed, listening to its music with a million thoughts in my head.
I have this emotional attachment with everything. Be it the little inanimate things or humans that I smile at when I walk to my office. Be it the guy at the cafe which we hang out every once and then, a little too often or the little boy who is neat and ready to play on my way back to hostel. Be it the masjid that I go to cry and pray or the lady who lets me pass through her backyard everyday. Be it the familiar roads and sights that at times I talk to or the elderly gang looking after their grandsons playing and discussing mundane things. Be it the colleague who left too soon or the strokes of my artist girl who flew away. Be it the beauty of paintings in an art gallery or the charm of Fort Kochi. Be it the magic with the fingers or the divine taste of that little chocolate lava cake which is my absolute favorite. Be it in the longing for home or the laughing moments shared with my better parts here. Be it the flooding memories of school when I see school students or missing the warmth of my best friend when I want to cry uncontrollably. Be it the weird equation with my fellow colleagues or the peace that I have at times in Kochi. Be it the voice of my mom over the phone or my obsession with pasta and fries. Be it convincing myself about my own goodness over the misdeeds or the wandering minds and thoughts when something doesn’t work out. Be it that bubble of happiness when the boy who smiles at me everyday while waiting for his school bus, waves at me while traveling past me some random night or that sigh of relief when I reach back home. Be it the little lift that I got from a lady who apparently knew me or that feeling of getting your siblings something. Be it the little twinkling stars shining at me or having food out every other night.
Each and every moment is too precious. Everyday I live down a day that is never going to happen again in my life. Each and every person, I share with them a piece of my soul, starting with my smile. And when they walk away or I leave, I let them have it even when it hurts a lot. They ask me why do I take everything to heart and I don’t have an answer. Is it because I love everything too much? Or is it because I want everything and everyone to stay? What would have life been like, if each and everyday was just the same? I know, boring.
But everyday this multitude of feelings and emotions, sights and experiences, senses and complexities. Isn’t it a little too much for our little heart to bear and poor brain to process?
I will just have to let it all go, ain’t it? Everything will change in a month’s time and I will be again back to square one, in an alien place, surrounded by unknown faces and an equally intriguing culture.
When will I stop, feeling everything a little too much? Thinking about everything a little too deeply? Letting everything affect a little too seriously? Trying to catch it all in those pages of my little diary, in the form of elements so significant to the events? When will I learn to let go, completely?
I can embrace easily.
It is to let go that’s hard.
Because in the end, I walk away with a little less of me, every single time.