She touched me gently, running a soft finger down my hard exterior, a faraway look in her disturbingly amber eyes. I wondered what she was thinking. Was she thinking of how we met or the grief I gave her over the years? Was she thinking of ways to get rid of me or lessen my presence? I could be intolerably didactic at times and twitched uncharacteristically at my own insecurity.
Often she and I would sit on old logs of wood in the forest. She’d talk to them about herself, about me and how my presence had distanced her from the world. I would try and stir her into realising that it wasn’t the right way of looking at things and that I had actually helped her sift the grain from the chaff. But it took years for that realisation to set in and many heavy but magical walks in the wooded forest.
When we had just met, like in every nascent relationship, she would overdo everything – the drinking and eating, shopping, staying out late, spontaneous and often irresponsible travels and the gut wrenching insomnia . Slowly we settled down into each other but I didn’t miss the fact that her life was very different now. I’d see her stronger in dealing with her world, she had learnt to say no and now held no-one responsible but herself for everything that came her way. Over time our relationship became deeper and more meaningful. She would turn to me often, considering me a kind of avuncular benchmark for almost everything in her life and I’m not proud to say that everything fell short. I always came out tops!
Familiarity they say breeds contempt and they’re not wrong. She knew me as well as I did her and in some ways that made her resent me. Often times I would nudge her to do something differently or react in a different way but she would remain rock-ribbed. And again, I would squirm at the fact that I would be right. She would come away inconsolably anguished.
I think what happened then was, that she had no heart left to be broken, only deep cracks that we had now filled with wisdom. That is when we truly settled into each other and developed our own ways of coexisting. She would now look at me and smile, at times thank me for the lessons our relationship had taught her. But that isn’t all. I realised she had begun to cherish me now. Another year had gone by, albeit a difficult one for everyone, but she had held on to me tight and navigated the dreaded months just fine.
This year we celebrate yet another twelvemonth together, finding comfort in each others presence. Something that reigns you in and sets you free at the same time truly deserves a celebration! I thought this was the perfect time of year to raise a toast and give thanks to all those from whom our best lessons stemmed…
Who am I? I am the scar that never healed…
Written By Geetika Malik
Calling the hills of Himachal home for the moment, Geetika is a ‘Khanabadosh’ at heart. The essence of that reflects in what she does and her perspective of things. She runs a unique B&B just ahead of Shimla, one that moves every few years to a new place!
Week 51, December ’20
