They say you leave a little bit of yourself with everyone you have loved — and lost. No wonder then that we eventually remain just a skeleton of who we once were: when you give away parts of your heart, soul, mind, and sometimes even body away skeletons are the only things that remain, isn’t it?
Sometimes, while looking at the mirror, you wonder how would you have looked had you retained all parts of yourself. Probably more beautiful, more complete? This thought — of looking better with your chunks intact and retaining yourself — then forces you to withdraw from people and relationships lest you give away whatever is remaining too. You feel super proud of the indifference that you have conditioned yourself to and believe that the skeleton is slowly and steadily filling up with new flesh and blood. And yet you somewhere long for someone to who you can handover whatever remains of you. To who you can truly belong.
However hard you try, the parts that you have given away do not come back. The craters that they create in your soul never fill up, the aches in your heart never heal. You merely learn to live with the incompleteness pretending all is well. But life has a way of reminding you of your losses every now and then.
In such times, when I am reminded of my losses, I am also reminded of a song. It is said that when Gulzar saa’b handed over the lyrics of this song to RD he threw a fit. “Next you’d get me newspaper cutting and tell me to make music for that!” He shouted. But RD being RD and Gulzar Saa’b being Gulzar saa’b, the song was made. And what a song it was.
I had first heard the song when I was no older than ten. I wanted to hear it more often but had no idea how to. Back in the day there was no YouTube where you could type the words and get the song. By the time I heard it next, I was, I guess in my teens.
The song, which was perhaps a favourite with every girl of my generation, still stirs something in me. Especially when I think of all the parts of me that I have lost.
Can you guess which one is it?