Yesterday once more

Yesterday once more
Anurita Rathore

Let us, for once, disbelieve what we like to believe. That time is the best healer. That an ocean of time can help us wash away those waters that were a perfect blend of joy and pain once. Indeed, beginning to understand the story of time could well expose us to those teary truths that fight for a status they have not generously been allotted.

It is time once lived that can retrieve from memory smiles that were once ours, tears that begged to part. But time has never promised to change those unforgiving tears to grateful smiles. It has neither whispered sorrowful tunes, nor has it enveloped dark moments. Time is wrapped with the blankets of reality that cease to exist when faced by powerful storms. Time is that reality which none can ignore. It continues to exist, yet acknowledges none. How often do we wish to come out unscathed by troubles and pains that time mercilessly inflicts upon us?

Always, of course. We like to believe that time will loosen its reins and help us embrace laughter and happiness once again. And it does, too. But, can the pain that time has cursed upon us be left ignored? Does time acquire mastery in suppressing emotions? No. Time rarely heals. But it does give us enough opportunities to place our pain and sorrow in the desert of its ceaseless emotions.

The momentary pain that causes neverending sorrow can clutch on, freezing us to numbness. Because pain is something that seems momentary but the sorrow it leaves behind is, indeed, permanent. How often can a disabled soldier, who fought for us in Kargil, fret over his lost leg? He might not shed painful tears after days or even years of the fateful episode; he might not brood over the fact every day; but the pain he probably nurtures is one that is calamitous. Ten years down the line, he might just begin to understand and accept life that way but what he will always remember is that one moment which changed things forever.

The recent train accident in Austria was another tragedy to hit an already tense world. All that was left behind for hundreds of people were memories. Memories that may get permanently etched in the hearts and minds of those who've lost their hopes, their people. With time, the pain just might recede but the frustration will only grow. Those who've lost loving fathers, indulgent husbands or naughty sons, will probably never be able to fill in the void. With passing time, they might be able to do everything except get an answer to the question: Why me?

People who've lost a parent will grow up like others their age; they will come to terms with reality sooner than any other their age would; but what they will also undergo is the pain and frustration of having lost out on a family member who would have been their pillar of strength or the only one to share life's little joys and successes with. But, those are impossible possibilities. Time will give them enough opportunities but time will never fail to make them realise how they were left alone on a day that shattered their world. A day when time stood still.

Time will never be able to wipe away those helpless moments. Time will go on,just like it always has, but tears will never run dry at the sight of the family photograph that hangs on the beautifully painted wall. Indeed, time flies by faster than we can fathom or understand. These drifting moments sigh often and plague more. They question the amount of time we have at hand. They allow us to reminisce about the past. They help us relive days that are yesterdays worth remembering. Time lets us think of people who were once around.

What it doesn't do is bring them back to us. Once gone, we lose them forever.