I remembered that day. When I felt forgotten, lost and alone. My father was loading my suitcases on tractor. My suitcase was green, tractor was orange, and my eyes were red. I was feeling what I had not wanted to feel. I saw that fear was there, poverty was too. All of them were always invited before I became all.
Green suitcase with USA flag, my father bought it from a shop in Suhut. Suhut was called as Kasaba. It meant that we could find and buy everything from there. There were different breads to buy and eat it smelt like the mixture of milk and fear. I never mixed my fear with milk. My father and his friends were making a plan about our destination.
"We could find a bus from the closest village. When you get in bus, you could arrive at Suhut"
I remembered that I did not want to go away from my family. It was the longest trip that I had. It was the hardest one too. I stayed awake whole night. We passed many villages, big cities and dark side of roads. At that time, I learnt to count various white lines at the center of roads. Lights and white lines were the signs and words for me about going away.
While watching Chimamanda Adichie's TED Talk , I asked same question many times. Do I have one story to tell about me?
I do have lots of confession about my silence and smile. I could never express myself and tell my stories without hanging my smile on my face. I still feel the same boy inside me to look at the roads from eyes. He is still there to count roads, doors, people, cities and time. As if someone suggests him to count the time to understand the changes, he is looking forward to counting all faces, stories, movements, and moments. Those are various, those are stories, and those are real until he gets out from my body.
I live here and there. I become now and past. I define myself as loader, collector of selves to frame one possible uncertainty on me. It is called life.
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