Burning the
Books
Atticus Finch used to say that to know a person,
you have to walk around in their shoes. I have done that, yet I still can't
understand him. And, now I just don't have to, nor do I care to.
You must be wondering what in blazes I am talking
about. Who's he? Well guys, I'm talking about my (ex) maternal grandparents.
Emphasis on the ex.
Let
me take you a few years back. My boards had ended and we had shifted in with my
MG'S. (you have any idea how long it takes to type the whole thing). Things
were fine. Until October when their ex maid arrived with her son, whose
parentage and lineage are both a subject of confusion. But, me being me I made
friends with him quite easily. I think I scolded him once, while we were eating
fish curry. You see he was blabbing and there was a risk of a fishbone getting
stuck in his throat. Hence, I told him to shut up and eat and then chat with me
if he wanted. When Dad returned from office, he was told that I had abused the
kid and after that had also abused my MG'S.
At that point, I was trying to get my head around
the fact that a guy who used to clean my puke off the floor, always have a
chocolate waiting for me, put me on his knees and tell me fairytales, could actually
be a cold hearted bastard.
So, I stopped talking to him for
a month, and made him wilt. He had a flaming row with Dad on the subject of my
upbringing. That was after I had smashed the front door with my bare hands. You
see, my MG'S are used to being kings of the castle and now they had a problem.
Me. More importantly, I saw my MG'S without their masks, revealed in all their
glory. However, I wasn't surprised because I realized that I had seen through
them a long time ago. A few more incidents later, we shifted house and that
chapter remains closed. So why did I write this? I guess I'm burning the book.
And to them I would like to quote these lines from a poem by Anwesha
Chattopadhay, a friend of mine-
“I have found, that I
like walking in the rain,
Just me, myself, and I.
I have found, that I
like reading a good book,
Alone. By a warm fire.
When I wake up, I like
knowing,
That I’m Here. Ticking
inside.
I like having dreams,
and plans,
That I neither have to
share, nor divide.
Perhaps, One day, that
will change.
And I shall welcome a
bond, a tie.
But, for now, I’m glad
to be free.
And I’m very glad that
you said goodbye.”
