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  • Sanvari Malik

The Catch to a Catchy

It is weird to tag things together. Or feelings, or likes and dislikes. I would go to the extent of saying it is criminal for oneself to do so. It literally prisons down on you and you only get to see the bars of your cell when you are old and rocking (pun intended) your chair, while basking in the sun.

Well, I am assuming the age scenario, for I am 24. Not the age where I can be seen slowly and smoothly sailing a rocking chair. I wish I could but that's another 'catch' for another catch-y day.

The wix blog asks me for a catchy title and I cannot give it one. For I don't believe in adjectives much? (Yeah, a bit of Hemingway influence here.) Specially when they are put in a way so to suggest grouping together things. And the association you form once is hard to untwine and let go of. It all starts with a fun dance which, eventually, turns into the desi Indian railgaadi which doesn't stop. Anyway, it is not okay to describe someone with an adjective, even yourself. It is the catch to a catchy. It is going to catch you before you become catchy. Haha.

Anther catch is...having lost my abuela. It was the weirdest feeling. It was weird how I had so much to tell on her behalf when she was gone. She had been planning her death since a long time. So I knew what she wanted to wear on the body that she no longer owned. I knew the picture of hers she wanted to have framed for her last rites and beyond. Her last picture; the picture with the date of her last day here. It was weird to have known all of these things and the uncertain responsibility she left me with. How the responsible me was so weak in her knees telling all that she wanted with the biggest lump in my throat. I wonder if I wanted the responsibility. But it made me feel closer to her. How it gave me that one last privilege to do something for her, something that she wanted. How it gave me the privilege to know something she only told me. Her death rituals were a little secret we shared. I still have those cute reading glasses of hers. She was a better reader than me. I guess I will always use that image of hers to reach the dedication she had and I could feel myself devoid of, whenever I saw her reading.

She left me with a privilege over me; to keep changing me in little habits and morals for the rest of my life! And the feeling is...a lot of things. (no adjectives) *shrugging shoulders*

So Cheers to the Catch to Catchy in my life! #WhinesAfterWine

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