The falling of Rome
Season two's last newsletter spins you around into the eye of a storm where your core instincts take over through the upheavals, yearning only for those you can hold close, those that all this is for
Greetings dear dreamers
Welcome to the second season of The Abandoned Dreams Collective.
This is it - the last post for this season. I must admit, over the past few weeks its been harder to put out a new issue each week than I’d previously envisaged because I’ve had a lot of life upheavals coming at me one after another, stretching me thin over all my commitments. So, as much as I love working on this newsletter and building this space for writers to share their stories, this is going to be a welcome break for me to catch my breath.
I’ve been living on my own for over 3.5 years now and at first when you start doing it all by yourself, you tell yourself its only a matter of time, only a matter of now, only a matter of the circumstances and that helps you keep yourself together day by day. No one tells you how much heavier you can start to feel with each passing day and as the years go on, you start carrying yourself and all your stories as a burden too heavy to even allow anyone else to see. At some point it starts to feel like you’re separate from everyone and everything that brought you here and are now waging a one woman war against the world, now running out of the oxygen that’s kept you going against right now. Every time you have your back up against a wall, every time you feel a moment of weakness you ask yourself “what was the point of all that then?” and that gives you the will to keep going, albeit with a little less vigor now.
It can’t go on like this. It shouldn’t. No matter how much it hurts, no matter how deep the agony of admitting it cuts, the burden isn’t just our own to carry all the time. It is only when we are able to recognize the support we can rely on, bring ourselves to be able to open ourselves up to it and have those people there cheering us on - knowing that they’re on our side that we can find the will and the grit to fight another day and fight the real battles. This week’s writer Ananya Srivastava chronicles a stunning saga of all the ways your world can try to break you and the relationships you rely on to take you through this fight in all their multifaceted forms.
The falling of Rome
“Rome wasn’t built in a day, but it burned in one.”
The wind was flowing. The air smelled of ecstasy. The stars were aligned and fate was bursting with joy. Destiny didn’t hold anything against the innocent child. Spring had gone by but it came back to greet the little girl. The mother smiled as she held her in her arms. She was all she could ever want. The brothers were smiling and so was the father. Life looked at them. The laugh of the child was sweet. And her eyes were brown like honey. There was no way it couldn’t bless them.
(The wind was blowing. The sky was painted black. The air was thick. The air was cold. Fate was frowning and Destiny was cradling her grudge in her arms. The flowers had been bright yesterday. The town was painted red now. The mother smiled as she held the girl. She was all they could ever want. The brothers were smiling and so was the father. Life looked at them. Her eyes were blurry with tears. She blessed the child. It was not really a blessing. Not then, not ever)
She grew up in ball gowns that her mother stitched, wrapped in jewels dipped in love. She had no care in the world. Life was fun and that was all that mattered. She turned eighteen and her mother was the proudest. They baked a cake and danced the night away. Four years later, she had a job and bought a camera for her mother. She had always wanted one. The tears in her eyes were enough to make the daughter smile.
(The girl grew up in ball gowns stitched by her mother. They were wrapped in her mother's love and agony. There were ghosts in the house, prying on the members. She didn’t know it yet. One of them was shadowing her mother. She turned eighteen and her life stopped. It seemed like fate had sucked the happiness out of her body. She didn’t have her mother to help her breathe again. She cried for her. No one heard her. After all, cancer isn’t known for showing mercy. )
She got married and suddenly, life wasn’t easy anymore. She was walking in a cave. Dark and unwelcoming. There were monsters in every corner. They belittled her at every point. They cut her open every morning and she bled the whole day. She was scared and alone. So alone. But her mother was there. She wielded a sword and fought them like a warrior. She didn’t let anyone hurt her daughter anymore. She was going to keep her safe.
(She got married and it felt like destiny had hated her for being born. Thrown into a cave, she was alone and scared. There were monsters at every corner. They laughed at her tears and drank her blood like wine. No mother protected her from them. They broke her into pieces and painted bruises on her skin. They were barbarous. She didn’t know it then. She cried every night for forgiveness. For what? She didn’t know. Real monsters make you think that the knife is in your hands. )
A year went by. She wasn’t crying anymore. She was safe and her mother was there for her. She had a daughter. Innocent and naive. The monsters in the cave came back. They wanted to feed off the little girl. They tried to suck the innocence out of her; to cut open her flesh and break the bones. They couldn’t. Her grandmother was there. Wielding a sword as she did before. She didn’t let anyone touch her.
(A year went by. She was stronger. She was bruised. She had a daughter. The firstborn princess. She tried to protect her with her life. But the real bad monsters come with candy no child can refuse. They put hatred in her veins and infused her blood with insecurities she would never get rid of. They saw the innocence in her eyes and sucked it out like famished beasts. Her mother tried to protect her. But she was battling the demons too. )
The girl grew up protected. She didn’t see the monsters in the cage. Only ever heard the stories. She didn’t know it yet but she was grateful. Whenever there was a storm outside, she hid in her grandma’s lap. The grandmother loved her. A little more than her own daughter. She didn’t let anyone hurt her. They were loved. They were happy. But more than that, they were safe.
(The girl grew up vulnerable. She looked the monsters in the eye and felt the pain as they ripped her heart into pieces. Family is supposed to love you. She knew that. They weren’t family. They never would be. They both wear fabricated skin now. It heals when it cuts. Maybe they are stronger. Maybe they aren’t. They battled the monsters. They are still battling the monsters. If grandma was still alive, maybe they wouldn’t have to. )
This is a story about a daughter. This isn’t a story about a daughter. This is a story about the daughter’s daughter. This isn’t a story about the daughter’s daughter. Perhaps, this is a story of pain and tears, and the sharpness and cruelty of fate. It is a story about how destiny holds you by the throat and watches as you struggle to breathe. It is a story about how one person can be enough to make your life seem like heaven, and how if that one person is taken you suddenly lose everything. But more than anything, this is a story of longing. A longing for a life that could’ve been. A longing for shelter and love. A longing for a mother. A longing for a grandmother.
The mother doesn’t fight monsters anymore. She believes fate will take care of them. The little girl never learned to be the bigger person. She never learned to trust other people to do something for her. Her hands long for setting things right but she doesn’t. Life is fast and you don’t often get time to think. But when the work is done for the day and everyone is asleep, she wonders what it would’ve been like if her Nani (grandma) was still alive. If she hadn’t left as she did.
Mourning for the past and thinking of the what-ifs doesn’t change anything. But isn’t it tempting? Isn’t it tempting to think about a life where you would’ve been cradled by gentle arms and fed chocolates along with carrots? Isn’t it tempting to think about a life where your mother wouldn’t have had to spend her nights crying? Isn’t it tempting to think of a life where you would have a place to run to when the monsters scared you?
Death doesn’t think about the what-ifs. It works for no one and bows to no one. But she still believes that even Death would have spared a little sympathy when she came for her Nani. Even Death would’ve clenched her hands in agony when She saw what would happen after her visit. Maybe if it wasn’t against the rules, She would’ve loosened her hold a little. She would’ve whispered a warning and told her Nani to run. Maybe She would go back to the gates of heaven and say, her face stone cold, “oops! Looks like she got away”.
Her mother tells her to be positive, to look at what they went through as a blessing. It made them stronger, but at what cost? She would give away the lessons at once if it meant she got a moment with her Nani. She would crumple the strong skin she has if it meant she had someone who could fight off the monsters for her mother. They were princesses who had their kingdoms ripped away from them. They’re stronger and better after the fight but they shouldn’t have had to fight in the first place. Her Nani should’ve been there to wield the sword and fight the monsters like she fought her cancer. The monsters would’ve lost, unlike the cancer. She knows they would've.
She never met her but she knew Nani was strong. She knew that she was passionate and brave. She made the best food and had the best style. She loved her daughter. She would’ve loved her daughter’s daughter too. She would’ve smiled at them and her smile would be warm and magical. She would’ve basked them in her love and fed them sweets. She would make her dresses just like she did for her mother. Her light would fight off the darkness and even during storms, she would’ve made sure they never drowned. But she isn’t here, and that is how this ends. They were princesses and maybe they still are. Maybe we have the wrong idea about princesses. Maybe not all of them are happy. Maybe some of them are covered in blood and have bruised knuckles. Maybe they are stronger because of that but does it really mean anything if the queen they want to make proud still isn’t there?
-Ananya Srivastava
Abandoned on the interwebs
Abandoned on the interwebs is a new section on this newsletter where I recommend some riveting, spine tingling, evocative articles, books, essays that I’ve stumbled across when I’m left to my own devices on the internet.
When things are not OK, friends offer help. Here’s how to do it - There’s no guide for asking for help when things are tough and none for giving it. However, if there was one, if it were made up of all the hardest, most intense, pettiest, most yearningful things you wish you could say and not be judged, not be thought of as lesser and not ruin everything ever, it would probably look like this.
Stardust in words - In a departure from the usual kind of link I share here, this week I’m giving a shout out to this project by this week’s contributor Ananya. She wants to use words as a tool to help people accept themselves and their insecurities. She wants to help them accept their feelings, whether it’s anxiety, doubt, fear, or love. With this project “Letters to you”, she’s sending personalized letters either for people who write in or on behalf of someone who writes in to help them feel better about themselves.
Before I leave you to dream
With the aim to continue growing this newsletter, I’ve set up a page where you can contribute monetarily: Ko-fi.com/theabandoneddreamscollective
This will support the newsletter grow through increasing reach, growing its pipeline of contributors, optimize submission management and eventually pay contributors.
I hope you consider contributing to this mission.
That’s all for this season.
After a short break I will be back with a new theme and a new set of stories about love, loss and all that’s left behind on The Abandoned Dreams Collective. Until then
Much love and many dreams
Nirmitee
The Abandoned Dreams Collective