Let her go…

How often have you been advised to ‘let go?’ Of people, things, and often, memories. Since childhood, we are conditioned to let go – of toys, chocolates, odd things that were precious to our existence. I remember my childhood favorite – a toddler-sized doll that my late grandmother gifted me when I was 6 months old. It stayed, till my brother dismantled it to find life in it. My heart broke, but my mom told me it’s immature to cry for a toy. ‘Grow up’, she said. ‘You need to share things, even your favorites. And if you lose them in the way, that’s ok.’

She never knew that the doll was my only friend in this world, someone I talked to every night, shared my thoughts with. The doll was replaced by a pillow. As I grew up and moved out, the pillows changed. Some grew out to be human – friends who turned out to be confidante, a lover whose shoulder was a moving lullaby and could cure insomnia.

I have let go of many things (almost all) that made me humane. Songs that reminded me of good times, GBs of photos that captured my real smile, chats, and emails that I went back to every single day. Trying to let go was so difficult that I resorted to what I do best – kill what I love. Burned my diary, destroyed my hard drive. Changed cities and phone numbers. Bounded myself ‘at will.’ 

Stopped penning down thoughts. Trained my mind to pretend happiness. I told myself every night – it’s okay to let go.

I did let go. People who I loved more than I was capable of. Relations I valued more than life. Some forcefully, some by will. I had my own reasons. And where I didn’t have any, my fertile mind invented them.

When I look back, I am not the same person I was a decade back. I don’t regret being what I am, but this is not who I wanted to be.  

But even today, when I look back every night to fall asleep, I look back – not with anger, but with a smile. The memories of yesterday still make me smile – the conversations echo long after I have forgotten the voice. The smell lingers long after the perfume went out of production.

Letting go is never a choice. We can hold on to. But we are conditioned from childhood to learn to let go to be obedient and nice.

I have learned this late. But I don’t regret it.

I only promise myself never to tell my daughter to let go of things her heart wants to hold on to. So now when I see her talk to dolls and cars (and my husband thinks it’s weird), I smile. I let her talk to her imaginary playmates. I don’t snatch away things against her will to teach her sharing.

One day, she will grow up. And will perhaps have to let go of people she loves. But till then, I will let her keep.

The song that fuelled this post: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RBumgq5yVrA