01 April 2006

An Old Journal Entry

"There's a man out there I call 'father'. I don't know why though...I mean, just because he had something to do with my coming into being, just because I got my half set of chromosomes from him, all 23 of them, just because he created me - biologically, just because he happened to be the man who married my mother, just because he was around sometimes while I grew up doesn't give him the privilege of being called 'father'...or does it?? Even my retarded friend cracks jokes about how my dad doesn't give a shit about me. I can't remember a single time he came to my school to pick up my report card, it was always mom, mom and mom. It didn't matter that I stood first in my class, it only mattered when I failed..once, I remember - in maths. It really mattered then!
Yeah, yeah..I know, psychologists call it the 'yearning daughter' syndrome - that's in case you can't come up with the proper clinical term for this 'something' which you can tell I'm obviously suffering from. No matter how many times I tell myself I don't give a shit myself, I can't stop cribbing about my *one and only* dad.
And then, there's that guy who just won't call....
...dreams I used to have, dreams that die young, dreams that turned out to be just dreams after all, never to be realised.
- wishes, prayers...mostly gone.
The forever war waged against the mirror - 'Is that person staring back really me?? Ugh!!' Starring the extra pounds and the extra shiny tears...
Beautiful cast, isn't it?"

31st May 1998
I must've been feeling extremely morbid.
Funny thing is I can't even remember who 'that guy who just won't call' was. And the miserable S.O.B deserves to be forgotten too!
I don't wage that kind of war against inanimate objects like the mirror anymore. I won't pretend I relish seeing my face in the mirror everyday, just that I don't loathe looking into it so much anymore.
I no longer have any hassles calling my father 'father' :-). I like him in fact, now that I've grown to understand him better. I still hate him for passing on the curly-hair gene to me though.
I've learnt that not all dreams have to die out on you, some actually do gloriously come true, eventually!
Tears? I may or may not have cried recently but I don't remember seeing any tears lately :-)
And I still pray, and it still brings me enormous comfort.
Sucking at maths is no longer a cause for concern.
Yep! Growing old is definitely good! If this is what piling on years is all about, and aging going to be about, I think I'm gonna welcome greys on my head and wrinkles on my skin. I believe I could easily grow old graciously.


virgochhas said...

it mebbe hard to beleive but trust me...all thru ma life, a alwayz wish dat a haf a father...dsn't matter if e slapes me or hit me....but Godddd...how a used to wish fo one....

anywayz...allz well dat endz well...and hey, lady...a can't seem to picture u as 'growing old'...y'know, a see u as da kind of person who'll never age...


PhoeniX said...

Growing old (like most of other things) has its own ups and downs..what makes this inevitable truth enjoyable is one's attitude.I'm sure you have the right attitude and every wrinkle and each grey will eventually bring a smile to you...but thats a long-long time from now. So sit back, strap yourself and enjoy the ride while it lasts dear :)

Sundancer said...

Ram, thanks! And remember..the grass is greener ..and all that!

Phoenix, the ride lasts as long as one is alive and breathing, wrinkles, greys & all..;-)