You are not of this world

I am five years old and my mother looks at me, with the tenderness of a mother’s eye and says with an endearment, ‘Tui ei duniyar na – You are not of this world.’ I smile because that means I belong somewhere else. A world more exotic than just this. May be I am of the stars, the constellation and the open skies. May be I belong to deep oceans and endless forests. May be I come from folklore – the possibilities of not being from this world is just endless.

I am ten years old and I have long since perfected the art of being alone. My mother watches over me, as I sit playing with my dolls. She shakes her head and whispers mostly to herself, ‘Tui ei duniyar na – You are not of this world.’ There is a world, she knows, inside of me. A world that doesn’t require other people to bring me happiness. A world that centers around my family and my one best friend. A world with this own gravity and orbit and moon. She doesn’t try to pull me out. What’s the point? I am happy, aren’t I?

I am eighteen and I carry my pen and paper with me, scribbling away words I do not speak. I am not of this world. I don’t know how to accept the bad with the good. I don’t want to embrace the failures of our times as facts of our time. I am not of this world, this world so cruel. This world that wants and wants everything from me, but never gives anything back. What am I supposed to do this world?

I am twenty four years old and my mother looks into my solemn eyes and for the first time she shakes her head regretfully as she says, ‘Keno tui ei duniyar na – Why are you not of this world.’ She doesn’t say the rest. But I have long since learned how to fill in the gaps. This is what she means – Why hasn’t the world made you stronger? Why can’t you accept death as a part of life. Why is it that only you are different. Don’t you know what happens to people who are so different? How will you live in this world when you don’t belong here?

Ammu, hear me, I am not of this world. You have never taught me to be. I don’t belong to this sadness, this transiency. I do not belong to silences and complains. You, who have always polished my wings, never taught me when not to fly. I do not know how not to believe in the best of people, how not to give second chances, how not to take a leap of faith. I do not belong to lies and half spoken truths. I do not belong to calluses and disappointments.

I belong to words that are spoken with honesty. I belong to vulnerabilities and taking my armor off. I belong to tears and grief. I belong to hope beyond what this world is capable of giving.  This heart you have given me beats with the woes of this world. This life you have nurtured me into makes me bleed out my pain. You have always seen all the possibilities of not being from this mold. So why are you trying to fit me in a place I don’t belong in?

I still dream of a world in the clouds. Of castles and dragons. Of love and adventure. Of friendship and forgiveness. I still believe there is more to life than just this. Can’t you love enough to believe in those possibilities with me, once again?