Beyond Chemistry

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Remembering Tears

It was during my 17th year that I first noticed a change in my way of crying. It happened at an age that is marked by great upheavals and transitions anyway. And in my case, there were two: displacement (from birthplace Dang home) and adjustment in a room at Chitwan (a hot place). After my School Leaving Certificate (SLC) examination (now they call it SEE), I had moved to Bharatpur, Chitwan for my intermediate (college) study. I clearly remember the time. I and my roommate Yub Raj Neupane (he was also from Dang) had attended the Orchid Science College for the first three days. On the fourth day, as usual, we returned to our room and started preparing snacks (Khaja) by operating a stove. We had walked almost half an hour in the extremely hot weather on the month of Ashad and were too much tired. Unfortunately, the stove did not work. I tried repeatedly but was not successful. I was totally wet with the sweats and my hands were black as coal. My heart blocked every masculinity and my eyes poured tears which passed away from my delicate checks. I could not control myself.

I looked towards my friend Yub Raj. He had observed my efforts to make the stove work. When he saw my eyes filled with tears, his eyes also started inducing the tears and they kept dazzling on the sunlight that peeped our room through the wide windows. I could not stand long and sat on the nearby bed. We both looked at each other hopelessly! We could not speak for almost half an hour. My eyes kept on shedding tears. This pattern of pouring tears continued several times in my college life. These random unexpected episodes of crying occurred when biology collaborated with emotions ultimately flushing out my heart and mind. Homesickness was a major contributor. The best part is that - after every episode, I used to feel relieved.

After completion of my college study, I moved to Kathmandu for my bachelors’ study. In Kathmandu, the homesickness was a bit far. I had shifted to a big city where there were plenty of entertainment sources. This 19-year-old chap had a lot of wonderful places to discover. In between my studies, I worked in a radio station as a radio jockey. Three years of bachelor's study was merely analogous to one year. It passed easily. I did not cry a single time although I was far from my home and family. I was after all a man fully in charge of my own life. Interactions with lots of friends made me busy paying attention to my emotions. I completely forgot to cry.

Completion of a master’s degree in chemistry was a bit tough job. But the interactions with friends, different seminars, presentations, and a routine study made it feasible. I did not take whiskies, but some gatherings were perfumed with some sips of beer. Those occasions were also followed by playing cards “Marriage”- we considered a game of wisdom. Actually, those gatherings suppressed darker emotions that bubbled inside, beneath all the noise and laughter. So, sometimes I used to think whether it would make it difficult to look at my blossoming adulthood and plan ahead to face uncertain situations or disturbing emotions. So, the emotions that needed release tears sank further down into my organs making the fibers harder, almost brittle, making me unable to cry.

I missed it, that sensation of immense relief, the loosening of inner muscles, the flushing away of months of toxic hormones that life deposits inside me. I yearned for the tears but couldn’t. I had forgotten how to. It was as if I had lost an intricate password to my inner self.

Now, I am working as a lecture of Chemistry at the University of Miami. Days are quite busy. Sometimes my parents satire me focusing on the issue of my forgetfulness to remember or call them. Though I try to call them on a routine basis; sometimes I fail on it. I have never relied on alcohol to feel better. Smoking - I really hate it. When I do encounter patches of emotional chaos, I know that it is a part of a process. Sometimes, it is my body refusing to do the long, hard work of letting difficult feelings pass through; sometimes it is my mind wanting to relapse back to old, easy habits.

I am waiting for tears and wish to call them medicine that wipes the brittleness of my fibers. Sometimes I imagine how much toxic substances have been deposited on my body as the natural mechanism of removing those toxic substances from the body has failed. I miss the moment that made me feel relieved and delighted - cause tears have not shown up for long.

Dear tear….when will you come?

Shiv K Sharma

Miami