A response to: “what is your saddest memory?”
By Satarupa Bhattacharjee
It was the conflict with the tangled mind, the tousled heart and me. I was lying down on the hospital bed trying to delineate my feelings on a piece of paper. But the saline channel didn’t allow me to do so. I sat down and was waiting for the nurse to give me water. The nurse walked in and opened the bottle, pouring water into the glass. There was a sudden unmitigated fear that ran through my body. I felt like the water, helpless as it was taking the shape of the glass and not being able to voice its own will. It was within me, the feeling of life moving and suddenly forced to take the shape of destiny’s will.
Back in time, I was thoroughly enjoying the virtuosity of clicking images in Mumbai. Photography was more of freedom than struggle in the field of academics. I used to see the world with a third eye and make my own images with the help of Nikon D3200. Time used to fly with classes, shoots, good food and loads of happiness. But soon I used to check my phone, the joy on my face turned pale. It was the man I loved, messaging every time with some grumbling phrases. I tried to subdue myself back to shoots but heart kept on alarming me with his thoughts. Life still moved on with heavy winds and brain loaded with contemplations of future.
With the hectic schedule of the day and enough of satisfaction with my own self, I had forgotten the scripted vocation of the pending dark days of my life. It was not too late that I had to land to my hometown for the man I loved, wishing to spend the Christmas and New Year with him. But he had chosen his own way of celebrating. He had always been in his own way, own life, but when it came to me, he always seemed to have grievances regarding my every move. I couldn’t find a way to repair my heart. I was like a wrecked ship. Soon my health started failing to follow normality and I became terribly sick, mentally worn-out that reflected physical exasperation.
I suddenly opened my eyes. My head felt unpleasant and body covered with a white blanket. My hands were filled with saline channels and oxygen mask on my face. I was totally disheveled. I wanted to see him for whom I was in this condition. He refused to take my calls and I was denied of his sight by him, the man I loved. I was prescribed for bed rest for a year to fit back into the world. My career lost its track, and my family. My life was at stake.