How does grief look like? A Person lost? A Place deserted? A mother yearning for her only dead child or what. Grief varies from person to person, experience to experience.
A child who lost his eye-sight in a holocaust still imagining rainbow and colorful flowers, while tears rolling down her cheeks still hoping to see a Sunflower- the flower of bravery. A musician forms a rhythm for his beloved, despite of the fact that he knows she is deaf.
She, her smiling face and appreciation to the rhythm with nodding head, is an indication to millions of grief about her yearning to listen to the rhythm once.
A laborer while going to work, seeing a toy shop, longing to gift his son an expensive toy on his third birthday, that he can’t afford. A baby girl happy for his brother knowing that he is a parent’s priority.
As, Jaun Elia writes, “Zindagi khwaab kyu dikhati hai”. While, the heart is a sanctuary and is the decision making body often – it doesn’t sustain some terrible times, in grief. It doesn’t withstand the test of time. It’s exhausted by strengths.
At times, talking seems like burden, with like putting exhaustion, unbearable load on shoulders we grieve in silence and mourn silently. We experience and we never grow old in it. We don’t know how to express pain in metaphors and similes.
Every person can’t find roads, be it words or art, or any other way of communication to express grief. Grief transforms a person; reason behind every person transformed into an artist is mainly grief.
People connect the dots, among each other- they assemble together through this constant called Grief. Both, grief and joy is seen like air and water in the spectrum of life. A typical example of this is Kafka’s Letters to Milena, Van’s Paintings like starry night, Monet’s tulip paintings.
An individual grief is further intensified by many social facets. They may be racism, classism, castes or at times an early marriage. The gravity and doom and gloom, dust shaking storms of these facets has a fair impact on our lives.
The impact is such that we ponder about fate and luck. We tie ourselves to it. At times, we are voids between what we are and what we are not, between what we imagine and what life makes us, with needles piercing our chests.
Grief, consumes us to the core, a person who has shoulders around to allay his grief – in the form of friends, family, but can’t it’s same that of a river dying from thirst.
But, then, do we accomplish our “Dreams” while our life is spun with grief? In between, yes and - at times. In progressing among the spheres of life, Dreams often smell of Jasmine but will it seem like a long road to rusted key locks? Or a road to heaven?
Some questions, shreds and deep gouges do remain unanswered. In the moments of hopelessness and grief there is somewhere a moment that trembles us down to the core, that often rattles us. But, in accomplishing Dreams at times– the bones do turn sore, the chill in them reminds of a freezing heart.
The reality seems like volcanoes between the phrases of our souls at times. At times, with those dreams in front we seem proper mendicants. In a quest to accomplish, at times, we have worn-out spirits; empty hollow space envelops and engulfs us.
Our eyes well up, we are down and out, with 36-all out situation and waiting for the Gabba moment, it oscillates between the former. The speech reduced and slowed down, the burden of each breath is unbearable at times, while we are in the progress to shore.
But, often some dreams are sober, promising you hope, serenity, oneness where The Arms seem – Harbour, The Hearts seem –Shore, The Name – Salvation and the voice of “That Dream” moves mountains inside.
Dreams – but do those Dreams reciprocate – that’s where the exception becomes the rule and mind and heart are at rifts. Dreams are the only assets that don’t rely on anyone, whether; it’s Time, condition or grief.
Dreams will continue until Izrayeel blows the cauterizing oxford blue tone. While, writing, when one is engulfed in the flame of emotions, that don’t subside or lie down or douse.
It’s at times so frightening to know that there are numerous people out there who never even got a chance to even Dream. A person dreams, and continues to do so, weaves it round and round. While, the wheel of Dreams and Grief moves in and out I leave, asking God
While, tears blur the vision – I question,
Where is Gabriel (A.S) for a message?
Where is Luqmaan (A.S) for the cure?
While, I experience my Dream finding a solution
(Salman Jeelani, is a graduate in B.A Hons. English from Islamic University of Science and Technology, Awantipora)
Disclaimer: The views and opinions expressed in this article are the personal opinions of the author.
The facts, analysis, assumptions and perspective appearing in the article do not reflect the views of GK.