Let me just talk about myself. It was in that exact moment when I was saw my 35 year old husband's dead body lying in an impersonal corner of a dirty hospital, that something snapped inside me.
My first instinct was to shake the life out of him and scream, "Wake up, wake up", until I realised, he couldn't. He hardly looked dead to me. Not in that moment and not even the next day, when I rubbed ghee all over him and pushed him into the fire. He looked alive. So alive. His skin was shining, his face was radiant.. only his hands felt stiff and risen thanks to the rigour mortis that had kicked in.
I was hardly alive in those early months. I was dangerously flirting with the land of the dead. I couldn't let go of the love of my life whom I had met at 21, married at 27 and started a family with at 32.
He was a good man, who was obsessed with his job. He died on the job. Infact, he was still clothed in his formal green chequered office shirt and grey pants, when I found him on the hospital stretcher.
I knew then, I had to die riding a bike or doing something much cooler than being a corporate slave! I will go out with a bang, whenever that happens, after I witness my only son married off with 100 fat babies.
Until then, I'm here, I'm loud and I don't cry. Nah, just kidding, I howl! To think, that I had to turn into the sole bread-winner of my family is surreal. I always thought I'd have a fairy tale love story. I've read every single Mills and Boons novel in the world since I was ten years old. I've watched Beauty and the Beast 25 times as a four year old. My only ambition in life since I was 12, was to have a beach wedding, with the waves lapping on my wedding dress as I kissed the man of my dreams on the sea shore.
In real life, my late husband hated the beach and I don't see any prince charmings coming to rescue me. I am my own prince charming and my own knight in shining armour.
There are no happy endings and there are no real love stories anywhere. My generation wants a good time over real commitment and runs away when you drop the "M" word.
So be it. I'm off to find the perfect BMW race-bike, perfect the art of riding and crash it once my son is old enough and doesn't need me anymore, so that he can light up a very stylish biker's dead body.
Image source - https://images.app.goo.gl/bPnFYPwDD4YZ55i27
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