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The Shapes of GriefShriya Krishnan
 - written work

The tender jackfruit tree whose growth she supervised was pulled along with its roots in a cyclonic storm. That toddler she befriended through a window has now grown up into a young boy.

    Years come by and they go. Trees fall or they grow. People are born and then, they go. When I pass by my room, I almost imagine her lying down and staring at the ceiling, wondering when time will pause for her. And time as it relentlessly always does, paused for her, around eight months ago.

    Paati, my paternal grandmother passed away 8 months ago but I’ve been grieving her absence for much longer. Grief began to seep into the cracks of my being when I saw her senses slowly give up on her. When I saw her bright sarees turn into long nighties, grief began to live in me like a pit in my stomach. When I saw her resolute eyes surrender with helplessness, grief began to make my eyes moist.

The person you love doesn’t have to leave your side for you to grieve. When you see them concede defeat to their personhood, grief begins to make a home in your body. It follows you wherever you go: a new friend, a new job or a new city. 

Grief packs itself in your suitcase. Grief finds its way in your tongue and in the way you speak, the words you choose and the ones you don’t. It seeps in you and it stays, stitching itself in the very fabric of your being. I’ve begun to realise that no matter what you do and how hard you try, grief remains because grief has no distinct beginning and no foreseeable ending.
Image given by Shriya Krishnan

It stays with you as you go through life’s tides, changing shapes and taking on new forms. Some flowers and some thorns.
Grief is new but it has chosen to stay. No matter whom I meet and where I go, grief colours the way I live and the ways I love. Grief moves through and within me, telling me that it is a traveller but never a settler. On some days, it saturates and on others, it fades. But, it stays, marking its place.
When I look at a jackfruit tree, I am reminded of Paati and her watchful eye. When I see the child she befriended, I giggle thinking of Paati’s childlike curiosity and on those days, grief comes to me like a warm hug. A knowing embrace that tells me that I loved and that my never-ending grief is my greatest proof.
Artist’s Note I’ve often found great solace in penning down my thoughts. I do it either when I find myself staring at clarity or when I find myself in moments of perplexity. Sometimes, the woe of being a writer is that you begin to crave perfectly crafted narratives, you go looking for them even when they don’t exist and I think that is the case with grief. My paternal grandmother, Paati’s absence has nudged me to think about my life and the people whom I love in so many different ways. Grief is anything but a perfectly crafted narrative. Grief is messy and this lyrical prose is an attempt to capture that mess, in great contrast to how I usually write. As I meet new people and experience new facets of life, grief somehow remains with me, almost as if it’s in transit, with no clear genesis and no determined destination. To me, grief has felt like an emotion that is constantly in motion, changing forms as one goes through life and this piece is an ode to its different shapes and forms. BioShriya is a thinker, a dreamer and a worrier. She is a Liberal Arts Graduate with a specialization in Social and Political Studies and is a classically trained vocalist. Shriya is always observing the world, learning and unlearning through it and capturing it all through words, notes and pixels. She’s currently working at The Circle India to tell poignant stories about a reinvented India. You can find some of her work @shriyakrishnan_ and @shriyaaaa.k.

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