8:15 p.m IST
perhaps it was her first one. She saw herself crying in the mirror. the tears flowed seamlessly from her red, puffy eyes, her skin looked as pale as She liked it, her lips a beautiful shade of ripe plums. She was more beautiful in that breakdown than ever before.
She tried to drive herself beyond her limits and listened to 'la historia de juan' on repeat. the song went down her throat each time like an acid that didn't burn but personified pain that hurt in its own special, strange, choking, claustrophobia inducing way.
and She stared at herself without blinking her eyes for the longest time.
8:15 a.m. that morning
They were getting late for her friend's appointment at the hospital. her friend went to the hospital every three weeks lately. they gave her medication for her condition. it wasn't such a grim scenario but the thought of hospitals makes everyone nervous. She was nervous about her friend more than the hospital. She was nervous about herself too. She wanted to always be strong for her friend. She wanted to give her friend strength. She wanted her friend to hold her hand and float through this 'thing' without effort.
so She talked about trivial things, made gossip, bitched about other friends, did all that She naïvely could to ease her friend's justifiably angst ridden eyes. through the gossip session her friend's eyes played ping-pong between interest and angst.
her friend went to lie down in the ward for precisely an hour and a half. She sat outside waiting for her after fulfiling all the formalities. She met strangers who helped her at every step of the process. they showed concern and looked on with unconditional love. She waited. She saw the same strangers sitting around her, like family, without words. She saw them look in her direction every and now then checking to see if She was ok. as if they were all looking out for her - it was obviously her first time. She felt joyful. She sat near the door and opened it for everyone who went in and out of the waiting room. She was saying thank you to them, without words, in return for their love and concern.
She couldn't believe her mother was inexorably going on and on about the maid, the expenses of running a house, the tv show, the maid, the neighbours, the maid ...
She screamed at her mother.
She wanted her mother to understand She had been through something that had changed her. She was changed. Couldn't her mother see. It was so obvious, it was her first time.
She felt something. something was going on inside her body. it was as if small particles from every corner of her body were centering in her heart froming a huge wave. She wanted to upchuck. She felt ill. She tried to understand what was going on. was it something she had eaten? no. the only thing she had eaten, which she normally didn't was gouda. she didn't usually eat gouda. her friend gave her gouda. it was all right.
what could it be. She was trying to avoid thinking about the hospital all this time.
She started crying. She couldn't control it. the tears erupted. the tears broke loose. the tears escaped her body like an uncontrollable bowel movement.
a beautiful breakdown ...
days later 8:15 a.m.
it occured to her that the beautiful breakdown had happened because of a beautiful realization. She had understood the difference between a grateful, thankful, loving system of life inside that hospital.
She had realized that her own system was that of ingratitude, thanklessness, constant whining, lovelessness.
She knew She had changed. She knew she had changed for the better. She thanked the beautiful breakdown.