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(Reading time: 3 - 5 minutes)
1 1 1 1 1 Rating 5.00 (1 Vote)
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Laugh, and the world laughs with you;
Weep, and you weep alone.
For the sad old earth must borrow its mirth
But has trouble enough of its own
                     Ella Wheeler Wilcox

For her, the world changed within seconds. The heart-shattering message reached her when she was getting ready to go to the grand festival in her hometown. For the first few seconds, it failed to get recorded into her thoughts.

"Satish is no more." The painful news made her dumb and words failed her for a moment. The heaviness at heart choked her words and her tongue failed to roll and lisp words. But tears didn't stop rolling down her cheeks spoiling her makeup.

Her family members were utterly shattered. Uncontrollable sobs ruled her parents. Her father who was a meek, good, soft-spoken person sat tongue-tied on the chair and could not utter even a single word.

A poem by Emily Dickinson popped before her inner eye.

Because I could not stop for Death –
He kindly stopped for me –
The Carriage held but just Ourselves –
And Immortality.

Whenever she read this poem, she imagined Death as her Love and she revelled in that virtual world that relished her at heart with unexpressed satiation.

Saranya realized life had sarcastically fulfilled her wish for she always preferred to read tragedies and felt much happy and relieved whenever characters in those stories lost their lives and moved away from the earthly life. What happened, in reality, did not please her, instead, it made her feel shattered and unhappy. Not only her, but the whole family also felt the pangs of pain and they could not even console each other.

The next two days went away leaving no place for them to sit and wail. Satish's parents wanted her to be with them. It was really a heavy blow to see their son's death after a few days of marriage. Before understanding each other, their marriage ended leaving nothing to remember.

A poem on Death by Rabindranath Tagore

O thou the last fulfilment of life,
Death, my death, come and whisper to me!
Day after day I have kept watch for thee;
for thee have I borne the joys and pangs of life.
All that I am, that I have, that I hope and all my love
have ever flowed towards thee in depth of secrecy.
One final glance from thine eyes
and my life will be ever thine own.
The flowers have been woven
and the garland is ready for the bridegroom.
After the wedding, the bride shall leave her home
and meet her lord alone in the night's solitude.                      

Days turned numb without any words. No one at home spoke to each other. Saranya lived like a zombie going on with her routine and she preferred to be alone without meeting anyone who visited her parents to know how she was. Before understanding how married life would be, fate thrashed her at will and made her broken, cursed, and unhappy at all levels. Why do you want to write about pain? Saranya mused. Is it not right to tell we need to honor the experience that pain can give us. Pain may be a great teacher, but no one has the power to withstand its impact.

When we write down those painful experiences, we record and acknowledge moments of our lives that add meaning to the life we lived here. Those experiences connect us with the moments, the way we handle those painful experiences, and how we come out of that stands as proof.

It is our natural tendency to push away the pain as quickly as possible and we fail to honor that experience. Even if we don't consider it, it comes to us as a teacher and a friend. We must learn to honor the pain by allowing it to use the space of our lives. If we resist something, the longer it will be there. When we resist the pain without accepting, it tends to be there with us for more time. But, when we accept it and don't resist, it allows us to create a world in which we can enjoy life completely with much happiness. How can we honor our painful experiences to establish a conscious relationship with it? We must give them their due rewards by painting, writing, or serving the needy. Even lighting a candle may turn to be a good gesture that acknowledges the change pain has brought in our lives.

Reading a tragedy is definitely different from living a tragic life. What we read and feel virtually, when it gets translated into real moments, no one can help except God. Tragic lovers who pine their separation or a lovable couple who were made to live far away from each due to unacceptable reasons prove to be solid examples that convey the message strongly.

Always grasp the life that has been given to you and do your best to change those moments into something valuable that would nurture your heart.

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About the Author

Kalai Selvi Arivalagan

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Comments  
# You are not aloneRaVai 2023-01-20 10:47
Kalai Selvi always writes in poetic form and style which is soul-touching! She speaks through the heart and her soul writes down!
Exceptionally excellent! May her tribe increase!
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