Tales from a twisted mind

    What can be said to a person who has experienced grief to an extent words may fall short to measure it? What can be done to ease the suffering of those who continue to suffer every living moment of their existence? I find myself staring at this blank blog post, trying to find a way to express, to comfort, to lighten, to help find a coping mechanism to reduce his suffering. But alas, I can only sympathize with his tragic tale and perhaps through these words offer to share his story with as many as possible, for by the collective consciousness of our empathy , the Universe may alleviate his suffering; perhaps there will be a sliver of hope after all.      I make my way back home after a strenuous gym session. It is Saturday, a weekly work off, where time and schedule those two luxury items, are squandered away by countless hours on social media and nothingness. I look up from my phone and there I see him.     He is standing next to his parked bicycl...

Moving on...    Seven years ago, I lost my dad on this day. 31st May shall never be the same again.    I am struggling to put my thoughts into words, staring at the blank page trying to assimilate them into a coherent flow, while Florence sings ‘Hunger’ in the background. Although I titled this post as ‘Moving on..’, I find myself at a loss in doing that either.    Maybe using an analogy might work? Maybe not? Who knows.     Why is it that I am unable to move on from my dad’s death? It is a question which baffles me till now.    His death happened all of a sudden - just an hour ago before his passing, he got up to use the washroom. I remember saying a prayer for him, before leaving for work. Next thing, I get a call from my sister to come home soon.     A frantic chase ensued, where I was playing catch-up with them and reach the hospital just in time. He was declared dead on arrival. ...