A few months ago, I over-confidently wrote to my father a letter with a quote from one of Jenny Holzer’s Inflammatory essays, saying “Nothing essential changes. it is a myth”, which made me (in hindsight) cringed with self-loathing because he knew that I wouldn’t last long — and my mother — who couldn’t stand the sight of me at home told me; at last night’s conversations that I can still float around on the sofa (if I’m there soon). I never needed her permission for floating on the sofa but to hear from that made me suspiciously question so many things at a time. I can’t start where.
I left home when I was 20 years old and since then it has become habitual to float, grappled-around-floating in other parts of this country. I can survive in my place but to live, you need to leave, and many a times, a place becomes a prison if you don’t leave. (Am I implying that in a prison, you don’t actually lived? Let’s not get into that.)
This is so quite not true for Imphal, though. Despite the overwrought stories you’d hear everywhere from essays, to articles and reports, it is a place that I can truly call it my home. I have not faced any horrifying moments in my life. I mean, yes, I have been through the bad ones — but I have no recollection of an incident that has profoundly traumatized me. Although, I hated being bullied, suppressed and confronted by my older, useless cousins when I was a teen. More so, I hated them deeply for my brother was also falling victim, right in front of me. A few personal stories are there but it’s not something that I want to write about when I have just got up now. Maybe, I have grown older and my memories’ neurons has started to fade away, somniferously.
I have this weird straining of melancholia ever since April has started. Despite all the grandeur of capitalism and poverty sprinkling all over the city, it is not a place where you can cultivate your ideas and thoughts. A stranger, a native of Delhi (?), told me how it is actually the dustbin of the world which made me feel amused, slightly.
Time to leave.