How did the butterfly die?

How did the butterfly die?

The butterfly died because I was not available to look after my garden for a few days. I love gardening. I am not sure if there are other butterflies or not. Maybe there are moths, but I have not seen any butterflies since I came back, except the dead one. The ants were carrying it. I felt sorry for leaving this beautiful creature unchecked. 

 

A month ago, I received an invitation to attend the marriage ceremony of one of my friends, Zeenat. She is young, the eldest of her siblings, and used to be one of the brightest stars during her academic years. It was an arranged marriage. When I went to be part of her new beginning ceremony, she was gloomy. I was sure something was bothering her. And finally, I found her alone to have a one-on-one conversation to sort out whatever she was going through. I asked her if she was happy about the marriage to which she broke down and replied, "Being the eldest is difficult. Why is it that only the eldest daughter had to sacrifice for the sake of whatever was on the way?"

I was unable to give any answers right away.

I wish I could tell her anything to make her emotionally stable. This felt like a like a strange magma of emotion inside me. 

She continued, "I could not marry the man I love because he is not suitable for my family. This is rubbish. He asked for time so that he could set things right. I am marrying out of responsibility; I have no right to lead a life as per my will. My family thinks if I wait for him, I will be ageing, and what if he does not keep his promise? At that age, who will ask for my hand? What if he can't set things right?"

All I could say was, "We have our own duties and responsibilities, my dear Zeenat." 

To which she interfered and said, while her tears were screaming out in silence, "Responsibilities with compromises are suicide. Responsibilities are meant to be crowned, not imposed. I am feeling burdened for being a coward." 

I was clueless as to what I should say to calm her down and boost her energy to move ahead because it was her marriage day. It was too late to decide anything. I was with her from the Haldi ceremony until Vidaai. It was awkward to see a marriage between a broken girl and a man who might be full of life. God knows, maybe it is a marriage between two broken people. The 21st century is full of broken people and sh*t.

Her family seemed happy while she was in remorse of losing. Even though I don't know if this is too serious to discuss, I was scrolling through Instagram and found a post related to being the eldest daughter and difficulties. There was a flood of comments from various accounts, affirming that they were mostly the eldest daughters and had to go through harsh decisions in life, hanging between desires and compromises to fit in the unwanted shoe presented to them. 

 

While I was checking the dead butterfly being carried away, I was just thinking if the eldest son had to go through anything against his will to fit in the role of being an elder. 

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Thank you all for reading

Comments will be appreciated ♥️

Acknowledgement

Cover picture - Pinterest

Edit App - Canva ( Join Canva through the link and get to choose premium icon , photo or illustration for free. Also get a chance to collaborate with me)

Move On

People move on.

People move on and get along with new moments, vanish like a magician like nothing happened. There can be no pretend to move on. No. 

Few wait,

wait a little in the hope,

few who were tormented to view their world falling apart,

A few gave up but could not move on.

How does it come as living with a scar?

There is no scar. Scars heal, don't they? 

I will say, "Die everyday with memories "

Memories, coming as some sort of sharp knife. Again and again.

What kind of memories break the ribs and push like a dagger through the heart? 

Aren't memories made to cherish and sooth? 

-@brewingblogging

Embracing the new Void

All I could remember is they gave me anasthesia and performed D&C procedure also known as Dilatation and Curettage process , in medical words a surgical procedure in which the cervix (lower, narrow part of the uterus) is dilated (expanded) so that the uterine lining (endometrium) can be scraped with a curette (spoon-shaped instrument) to remove remaining tissues of unborn who could not make it. In my words, it was letting go of newborn feelings of expecting and unborn feelings of post expectation. Even the void was felt as if filled with unexpressed everything that could have happened. Those instagram pages which was subscribed for tips and guide during pregnancy haunted me. The pop ups on my tracker app was squeezing my heart. We grew a feeling of something new, which turned into habit and departed leaving the numbness. 

All these are now gone and cannot be brought back. The pages don't haunt me anymore, the tracker is reset back to normal and the numbness is left with a new void that made a place to settle which was never there before. While depression held me in a cage, I realised on perspective of rational thinking, I can make a choice. A choice to embrace the new feeling that left me ajar for new beginning. 

My heart goes for those who went through such  trauma , any trauma but silently suffering. Which is absolutely fine because sometimes we alone need to take a stand to hold ourselves and no one can help in doing so.

Thank you for reading❣️

Thank you my beloved husband for all the efforts and love you shower always.