Grief & Loss

 

A couple of months ago, I lost an old friend—estranged, yet never truly forgotten. He passed away in his sleep, and as I grappled with the weight of grief, I found solace in the quiet, peaceful way he left this world. Once again, I wished for the same gentle departure when my time came.

Though we had barely spoken in over 15 years, there was a time, some 40 years ago, when we were inseparable, bound by shared dreams, deep conversations, and a connection that felt unbreakable. But life, as it often does, unfolded in unexpected ways. A decade later, certain events forced me to pause, to reassess our friendship, and the painful realization that it had morphed into something unrecognizable hit me with startling force.

His passing sent me spiralling back through time, tracing the arc of our friendship across decades. As I revisited those memories, I reaffirmed what I had painfully concluded 15 years ago - it wasn’t just our relationship that had changed; he had changed into someone I no longer knew or liked. And so, quietly, without ceremony, I had let go of one of the deepest friendships of my life.

Yet that loss didn’t remain contained within just him. It cast a long shadow, affecting future friendships and even coloring old ones, leaving behind an imprint I struggled to erase. For years, I wrestled with it, trying to make sense of how something so significant had unravelled…but understanding always remained elusive, just out of reach.

And still, somewhere deep within me, I held on to the hope that one day we would find our way back to each other. That we would sit together again, hearts open, minds unguarded… that he would offer an explanation, one that would finally quiet the storm within me, allowing my mind to let the matter rest. And that, against all odds, we would start anew… just as we had 40 years ago, as two stubborn, idealistic twenty-somethings.

But now, I know that day will never come. And in that realization, I find myself struggling with immense grief … not entirely sure if I am mourning him or mourning the loss of the chance for closure. He had not truly been part of my world for years, so his absence is not something I feel in the conventional sense… and yet, I feel it. What unsettles me most is that I am not grieving his sudden absence as much as I am grappling with the finality of something that had already slipped away long ago. And now, with the door permanently closed, my mind is struggling to make sense of it.

Grief, I have come to learn, is difficult to untangle when you are mourning not just the person, but the possibility that once existed … the hope for reconciliation, for answers, for a resolution that will now never come. I’ve combed through every connected thought, every memory, searching for clarity. But sadly, the painful moments seem to overshadow the good ones, making it even harder to understand why I am grieving at all.

I now recognize that what I need is closure, and the realization that I will never get it is stirring an unrest I cannot quiet. But perhaps closure is not something that must come from answers or conversations … perhaps, it is something I must create within myself.

Maybe the path to peace lies in shifting the focus from what is unresolved to what was once meaningful… To stop searching for explanations and instead honor the warmth that once existed… To accept that some stories end without epilogues... To acknowledge not just the loss of the person, but the loss of the relationship, the unanswered questions, and the dreams of a different ending.

 

Covert Body-shaming and Cheating by Clothing brands like FABINDIA

I have been buying Fabindia clothes, almost exclusively for over 15 years. My size gradually moved from M to L and now to XL over the years ☹. However, I continued to buy Fabindia as I love the style, the fabric and the fit. Typically, I make a couple of trips in a year to the Fabindia outlet, spend ½ day and pick out a lot of clothes, accessories, furnishings and anything and everything that catches my eye. I rarely try the clothes on as by now I am very familiar with their fabric, fit and cut and know what works for me. As this point, close to 90% of my wardrobe comes from Fabindia.

Last December, while my daughter was home, as usual we went to the Fabindia store for our shopping binge. The first thing that surprised me, was the very diminished variety in the “XL” size. But more was in store. In the weeks that followed, I was surprised and somewhat disappointed when I realized that almost everything that I had bought during my last shopping, were not fitting right. Everything seemed a bit on the tighter side… while not completely unwearable, they weren’t as comfortable as I was used to. Surprisingly, even the salwars seemed a bit tighter, which was confusing as until a few months ago I was still fitting in fine in even my older “L” salwars. I was disappointed but blamed it in on my ever-growing girth and promised myself with renewed vigor that I would make an effort to lose the weight. 

A few days later, I noticed that the salwar I was wearing fit very comfortably, even though it was over 2 years old. I was surprised but thought maybe it was a one-off piece that was probably stitched on with the wrong size label or something. But then, in the days that followed, I became aware that my old “L” salwars seemed to fit the same as my latest “XL” salwars did. However, on most days, I am running in the morning in my attempt to get to work in time and so didn’t have the time to actually check. Each morning, I paid attention and made a mental note of the fit and kept intending to find the time to actually do a proper check and measure the clothes etc.

So last weekend, I actually made the time and here’s what I discovered.

• My XL salwars from the previous year/s were larger by 3” than the L salwars at the waist.
• My XL kurtas were larger then my L kurtas by nearly 2” (nearly, because it varied with the style of the kurta)

And now comes the surprise

• My new XL salwars were EXACTLY the same size as my old L salwars at the waist!
• Not just that! The salwars had much lesser “chunnat/pleats” and had lesser “ghera/circumference” on the thighs! Not even as much as there was in the old L salwars!!
• My new XL kurtas were SMALLER than my old L kurtas on the arm and the same in size as the old L kurtas on the chest and hips.

The questions I have for Fabindia are,

• What exactly are you trying to say with the smaller selection in XL? Currently, in India, the women who prefer to wear salwars as against churidars, are essentially women like me, who are large in girth and prefer to be comfortable. My minimizing the selection, you are telling me that I should not be shopping for your brand. Is that being consciously done?
• What’s the thought behind decreasing the size and uplabelling? So that women who need to wear a L/XL feel shitty and mistakenly believe that they have added weight when they actually haven’t? Or is this a new way to cheat and make more money?

Here’s my dilemma – 

I like to be comfortable and yet elegantly dressed, especially while at work. Fabindia has given me the correct blend of the two, while most other Indian, ethnic wear brands have never come anywhere near it in providing the fabric, the style, the cut or the fit… not to speak of the variety, that has enabled me to simply shop in one store. However, with Fabindia trying to shame me for my size while also cheating me on the sly, I am disinclined to continue shopping there. BUT, then, where do I go for my clothes? Tailors are a pain and most other ethnic wear brands prefer to cater to a style that is really not appealing to me and designer clothes are not my league! 

Suggestions PLEASE!

My Wandering Mind...

A few days ago, I was devastated with the news of an old friend’s fatal accident. A few phone conversations later, I became painfully aware of how little we know of what actually goes on in the lives of our dear ones, family and friends. In this day and age of absolute connectivity, when everyone is just a call/message or a shout away, we are actually losing all connections. Facebook updates and posts, Instagram pictures, are all filled with positive, happy moments…but what happens in the dark moments? Until that fatal day, I believed my friend was living the life, her media posts boasted of her sons’ achievements, her public presence and acclaim, all pointed in that direction and I thought that she had moved away from being a troubled teenager into a happy adulthood. I could not have been more wrong is what those few phone calls told me. 

My daughter insisted that it was an issue with my generation and that we did not share our problems. I am not convinced that this is a problem merely with people of my generation. I think this has more to do with technology and the way it connects while actually disconnecting. In the times when we were not so connected, it was easier to share… or was it? Fact is, I cannot pour my heart out in a phone conversation. I need a physical presence to be able to do that. I need the opposite person to see and feel my pain, not just hear. I can have long conversations on the phone about everything and nothing. Most of these conversations evaporate from my brain even as I disconnect the call. And any reference to it is likely to leave me perplexed and trying to jog my memory to recollect the information, which I invariably cover up with suitably spaced “Oh ya ya” or “I Know”… or some such similarly inane phrases. This is not the case when we have face-to-face conversations. Our eyes, faces and bodies speak more then the actual words that we use, and they tell a story that goes way beyond the words. And our eyes, hear more then words can say and ask questions, that our tongues cannot. I have seen stories fall apart when faced with a steady attentive gaze that sees through the pretense. And even if the questions are not actually asked, the story teller knows that he/she has been seen through. A “are you ok” that comes with a concerned look expects more then the casual “oh ya” that is typically the answer that one would be inclined to give. The look asks more, expects more and sees more. How can this be replaced with a conversation over the phone?

While I love technology, I am realizing more and more that it makes it so easy to lie our way through anything, to cheat even when there is no need and hide from others and eventually from most reality. As a result, we know nothing about each other and say nothing. We read a lot and retain nothing. We go everywhere but enjoy nothing. But is this all? Is technology the only culprit?

Is it just me, or has it become more common to meet in groups and not in ones and two? Safety in numbers, they say… are we all hiding from each other and in the process ourselves? I find more and more that we meet people in small hoards, where conversation stays superficial and about fun and all things good. The slight hint of dissent seems to make everyone uncomfortable. We surround ourselves with music and sound to prevent ourselves from hearing our voices, both inner and outer. I love music…but for me, its something I appreciate in solitude, when I can absorb the beauty, the rhythm and the melody without any adulteration from anything else… and yet I find more and more friends suggesting we play some music when we are together…when the music plays, there are some who want to sing aloud with it and others who want to dance…and OH what a good time was had by all! But me, I prefer that we meet in a small group, better still in ones and twos…so we can converse, get to know about one another…perhaps learn from one another…evolve. Sadly, I find very few takers. Is it because we are afraid to face the reality, introspect or is it that we are afraid of being judged for what we are going through, or what we think and feel? Where does this need to put on a “All is well” show actually stem from? What would happen if I were to say, “all is NOT well”? If I cannot face/accept my own fears, problems or whatever, how do I share and lay myself bare to my own? And if I do not do that, how can they help?

And so the mind wanders…

Revisiting

Its been a long time…

since I wandered down this path

Breathing in the air,

loaded with the scent of emotions

My bare feet fall softly

on the green grass of feelings

My eyes feasting on the colors

of thoughts that dance in my mind

Its been a long time…

Since I opened the garden door

That thorn that pricked my finger

As I touched that pretty rose

A resplendent red of anger

My hand recoiled instinctively

Not wanting to explore further

Its been a long time…

Since I breathed the anger out

And yet, that bitter sweet scent

of vindication continues to intoxicate

The shadows that pretend to embrace

Threatening to envelope the mind

Once more

That embrace so inviting as is

That door of withdrawal

Its been a long time…

Since I walked this path