A tear-streaked evening

Words have been with us since childhood. They have consoled us, motivated us, guided us, cautioned us, right from the time we were children. They were the stepping stones to growing up…evolving. And yet they fail us at crucial times, like when you want to express pain or even help someone cope with it.

Some time back, going through a wildly sad phase, unable to bear some sharp, wounding words that made by eyes bleed tears uncontrollably, I wandered aimlessly through the streets, the tears gushing out, wetting my dress and the pavements. It was not something that had happened to me in a long, long time, such an outpouring of grief. At such times one does what one can which is call some friends. And that’s when I sensed two things: reluctance and a sort of disgust. They couldn’t figure out what to say to alleviate the pain and there was a sort of distance they kept to my pain. I was quite a sight with my puffy face and watery eyes. But I felt sad that as people we have come so far away that we no longer know how to react to tears. Tears are after all one of the most primal of reactions, we cry when we feel sad, alone, or even happy…we cried when we were born, we cry at the prospect of death…

All it takes and all I wanted at that moment was for someone to hold my hand and just tell me that things would be okay, if not today then very soon. That’s all that was required. Humans are amazing at the art of complicating the simplest of things.

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