---
title: Existing in the void
description: As a cosmic joke!
category: life
date: 2026-06-02T00:00:00.000Z
---

When I look up at the sky, I always believe that the universe is vast and there's more to it than we see. But right now, I don't know if this cosmos would fit all my suffering\! More than a septillion star systems out there, and in this one tiny corner, I'm screaming in a void, after losing my baby, mom, and wife, one after the other.

Sometimes, I wonder how it would feel to survive the event horizon of a black hole and witness the gravity of the singularity itself. Whatever that dense brutality would be, it certainly won't be worse than what I'm going through right now. 

No\! Not a hyperbolic expression of my state\! In fact, it really doesn't cut it\! First, the universe took my baby, gave me a false hope, and then again ripped away my mom from me, gave me a false hope again, and now my wife\! And I'm still supposed to accept all these and "stay strong" and "carry on"? For what? What's the point? 

You see, I'm just a human\! And I've crossed my threshold long back and I'm running past my limits here\! The agony of grieving all these beautiful souls this early is something I don't know how to accept, process, or express\! There's no research or scriptures on this planet that can either\! This is just me bleeding all over this page, just like screaming back into the cold and empty space\!

Taking a step back, to think of it, it all plays out as a tyrannical mockery of my life.

## Home

To begin with, my world was too small. Just me, my wonderful parents, and my unattended childhood traumas in the corner. As an only child, I was pampered, overprotected, and I pretty much grew up like a badly coded robot, figuring out the world on my own with broken sensors. 

Since my childhood, loneliness was the hardest to process. Most nights, I'd cry under the sheets, aching for a sibling, or a friend who'd get me. I'd sometimes scribble my qualms and toss them out before anyone could read. Eventually resorted to maladaptive coping mechanisms to escape from it all.

To be frank, I wouldn't have pulled through if it weren't for my mom and dad's friendship, parenting, and discipline. In their own ways they taught me to channel my raw untamed energy into things I loved. They armed me with resources early on and powered me to explore. What I couldn't express with words, I started learning to express with words and art. I slowly learned to ride the ups and downs, spiralling and reveling in the serendipity of life.

It wasn't much, but it was 'home' for me.

## **Lights and love**

And then I met Saranya. After decades on a rollercoaster, my life finally started taking a beautiful turn. Like the sakura blossoms Saran loved, she bloomed into my life with all the love and grace she had. Her friendship, the eternal smile, and that playful child that twinkled in her eyes, all took me to the origins of my time and back. The more we got to know each other, the more we shared and healed from our traumas. We fell in love, and before I knew it, she'd already pulled me out of the void I was stuck in.

From waking up alone to alarms, I began waking up to the gentle tickle of her eyelashes on my cheeks. I called it 'the butterflies' in our language. Some days she'd slowly do that and rock me out of my sleep and some days she'd plainly kick me out of the bed.

My mom, who was slowly eroding away from Sarcoidosis, found her smile and strength back from Saran. My dad and mom finally got the daughter they always wished for. Board games became a routine and so did her big baby tantrums whenever she'd lose against me. I was no longer the pampered one at the home. She took that throne. 

With her magical lenses, she showed me the world in her own way. The introverted and indoorsy me transformed to an outdoorsy one. Even our car started making its own memories. We literally drove into the clouds. Nurseries, coffee shops, resorts, movies, every day we started adding a layer of colour to our life. Long drives became a routine. Every corner, long stretch, and pit stops for tea and breaks bustled with a ruckus of laughter and childish games.

For all the life traumas and abuses we both have endured, I believed the universe had put us in each other's path to finally heal. We started nurturing and building each other. My sphere of love, my home, started flourishing towards something wonderful.

For the first time in my life, the horizon ahead of me had a clarity. I had a best friend and the soulmate I've always wanted. We were brimming with so much love and laughter that we decided to bring a life into this beautiful world of ours. 

## Baby

When we first learned about the pregnancy, we were like two scared and excited birds. Happy tears, anxiety induced ones, the whole nine yards of profound bewilderment and joy hit us.

We made sure we had everything in place to welcome our tiny little one. We started making time capsule videos. We talked about baby proofing our future house back in Coimbatore (which we had already made a downpayment on). Started talking about college funds, parenting styles, dresses, room decorations, all of it. Even schooling\! Oh, we had an hour long debate on that\! I was keen on homeschooling and she was all in for proper schooling. And we had no idea how but we ended up talking about destination wedding plans for our kids\!

We were on our toes and we just wanted to make sure we'd do everything right for the kid and shield it from all the traumas we faced. There wasn't a day I didn't pick her brain about the development of the child. I was so close to sticking a 'Fragile\! Handle with care\!' sticker on her.

And then, on a fateful morning, all our hopes collapsed when Saran was in excruciating pain. Even before reaching the emergency room, she, being a doctor, inferred herself what was happening to her. I wasn't prepared to hear it, but in the emergency room, the hospital confirmed that we'd lost the baby.

I guess that's where it all started. Ground zero\! I stood right in the middle of it, stunned and stuttering for answers. We did everything right\! Was it the speedbump I drove over a week ago? Could it have been the seatbelt? Or the supplements? I had so many questions\! Looking at my mom and Saran crying, I was glitching in and out. 

I don't remember much, but I remember signing a few papers, Saran in the wheelchair, dad crying after a long time, mom somber in a corner, then some flashes of mom and Saran's mom consoling me, and finally waiting in front of the operation theater. Saran assured me it was a simple procedure, but I was scared. The D\&C was done, her anaesthetics wore off, and the two of us were back together, holding hands in tears.

Later that day, back at the house we were staying in Hosur, mom came into our room before dinner and held our hands. She told us how frequent miscarriages are and tried to console us with stats and stuff. She gave us hope. And out of the blue, she gripped our hands strongly for one last time and told, "I'm not your mom anymore, Saranya is\!"

At that time, we didn't really know that my mom was affected by this loss at a deeper level than she expressed. She was pretty good at hiding it from us. Dad too.

As days went, Saran pulled us from the rubbles and bloomed back again with her smile and childish stunts. We were back again on the streets, at 2 AM in the night, just us at 20 km/h in her mom's scooter. Getting our caffeine at our usual Aavin corner. 

We put on bold and happy faces for our parents, while silently grieving in each other's embrace. We carried on, learning from each other's resolve. To accept the loss. And to look for a new hope in its place.

## Mummy

While Saran and I were at Hosur, mom and dad went back to Annur (Coimbatore) to finish the furnishing works of our newly bought home. I didn't know that would be the last time I'd see my mom. Waving goodbye to me as long as she could see me from the car.

For the days that followed, we had our 9:30 PM video call ritual everyday as usual. Mom, like most other mothers, thought she'd be burdening us if she expressed her grief and went along hiding it. She really hated medicines though\! She wouldn't stop complaining about it at every chance she got. But what we didn't know was the grief was also doing its thing to her immunosuppressed system slowly.

Things seemed normal over time, and a month later, Saran and I focused on the prospect of our next chapter with the housewarming on the horizon. That week, we'd been inviting our friends and family and preparing to go home that Friday to Coimbatore from Hosur.

Back in Annur, on Thursday morning, my mom went to turn on the gate valve in our underground sump. As she bent over, she got unconscious and the pipe broke. She drowned. The water level was just knee deep.

Dad was out, buying things for the housewarming. I can't even imagine the way he would've found her without breaking down. 300 km away, Saran and I got the news and were bawling out in different corners. I lost my conscious state of mind very soon and all I remember from the six-hour drive was holding Saran's hand, half conscious, crying and screaming, wondering if it's really a strong nightmare or it's the reality itself that had turned cold again. By the time they brought mom to our hometown, I was at my lowest, overwhelmed mentally and physically, and my body started giving up with seizures.

One of the earliest memories I have of my mummy is the way she'd smile at me when she'd pat me to sleep when I was three or four years old. She was my first best friend. She taught me to play chess, to draw, to see the world with a creative lens, and made me into a man that Saran adored. I still remember how proud I felt the day when Saran told me, "Amma has raised you well\!" 

Her 'amma', my 'mummy' and my dad's 'Lakshmi' … was gone\! Just three days before her dream of watching me and Saran step into a new life.

I was in and out of consciousness on IV for a day or two. It was all a haze, but from that day onwards, I slowly started losing my colours and sense of the world itself. The kid in me died with her. I couldn't stop thinking about the hard reality of what could've been if I had only travelled a week ago like Saran suggested. My body was drowning in shock and grief so much that it started shutting down often and raging into random episodes of seizures. 

I'd scream and writhe as Saran and dad watched in pain. Despite their best efforts, it took a high load of antidepressants and continuous therapy to make me functional in the waking reality, without my first soulmate, my mom.

## **Saranya**

The months that followed were packed with the most draining moments of my life. For me, Saran, and dad, everyday was like walking out of a swirl of burning tar. 

I really gave them a hard time. I'd sometimes get lost in my thoughts and wander away, or end up having an emotional breakdown, or find myself in my mom's room, clutching her phone, listening to her voice from the accidental call recordings over and over.

When the whole city was celebrating Diwali with crackers, I walked through random streets, dragging my heart. I ended up at an empty church, a locked temple, and then finally reached home after walking almost 10 kms.

Whenever it rained in the night, I'd go out for a walk, drenching myself to feel something. To seek answers for the questions I didn't know.

Whatever my mom said the other day about being a mom, Saran took it to her heart and began mending the broken pieces of our family again. She cried in silence and tried to revive me back to normalcy. Dad grieved in his own way.

I couldn't bear looking at them grieve and to bear with me like this. I slowly picked myself up and tried my best to put on a face. I started taking them to pastry shops, restaurants, and every nice place I could find. But sometimes, all it would take would be an empty chair at our table to make us cry.

It took me about three months to even visit the home my mom passed away. It was like a space frozen in time. Despite her physical pain due to Sarcoidosis, I found she'd prepared a few things for us in the fridge. My heart found new ways to hurt me when I found her comb with her hair on it. I ran to her room and hugged her sheets and cried for an hour.

It took me another month to return to work. The meds also took its course, and Saran and dad started realising my active efforts towards betterment. We decided to move to Coimbatore. But Saran had to finish a three-month course at Chennai and we had to stay apart. I still remember how teary dad and I were when leaving her at the hostel. She'd taken one of our two plushies to keep 'me' by her side. I was the Batman plushie and she was the Tigger plushie.

Three months rolled in another haze for me in my hometown. Just me, my dad, and a pup called Jackie. No one else understood the pain we were going through. Some folks didn't even have the humanity or decency to let us grieve in peace. Saran wanted to discontinue her course and come back to us, but I insisted she finish the course.

Somehow, we pushed through and I found myself back in solace with Saran in a rented home at Sulur. While the void consumed a part of me, the other part thrived with Saran's rambunctious energy. She slowly got me to watch movies and television shows again, we went out on walks, I taught her to drive the car, we created our own cooking rituals, we were back running around the house and chasing for chocolates. I could see the new leaves of our lives already.

A year had passed since mom's death. 

We were still broken, but strong enough to think about rebuilding the future again. We purchased a plot by a lake and decided to settle there. Signing the papers itself felt like a fresh start. Walking around our plot, we talked about kids again. We argued about who'd take turns to prepare them for school, how we'd teach them swimming early on, how we'd eat dark chocolates with them, and how the future would be.

And even as a half-dead zombie, with pure grit and sheer will, holding myself responsible for Saran's and dad's happiness, I continued putting effort and got better, hug after hug, month after month, leading to the psychiatrist finally tapering off my antidepressants. 

It was all Saran. She did it\! She pulled me back once again\! We even marked the day I stopped my meds and had a small celebration overlapping with our wedding anniversary. Under the stars we talked about careers. She was so eager to get into AI in healthcare. She wanted to be a better doctor.

And then came the holiday season. We finally started planning for a vacation, after almost two rough years. For the first time in a while we had 'excitement' back in our emotional spectrum. After three nights of searching, the plan was set\! A long drive, to spend a few days at a resort, trek a bit, and settle down for the year. She'd already applied for leave.

I just had to visit Bangalore for three days for my friend's farewell at work, before my holidays began.

The night before my flight, she and I wrapped the farewell gift. We had a debate on whose handwriting would be good and settled on mine and wrote a message and put it in the bag. As usual, I had my sentiments, and asked her to lock my bag. We had another debate on the clothes I should wear. She won and chose my dress and packed my bag. And then we had coffee, starting a new TV show. Around ten, she paused it halfway and pushed me to an early bed so I'd catch my morning flight relaxed. She told me we'd continue it when I come back. "It's just three days, I'll keep the Batman plushie in your place," she said.

The morning came and she and dad waved me off to the airport at 4:30 AM.

When I reached the airport, it all felt fresh. The morning dew, the air. I felt the strength in me for the first time. To turn the tide around and accept my mom's passing. To start focusing on Saran's and dad's happiness and future. So I created a group between the three of us, picking a cute bear on a swing that Saran would like. The intent was to start creating threads of happy memories. I posted my updates as usual before boarding the plane and posted a photo of mine. I got an immediate response from Saran. She loved the pic and reacted to it.

When I landed in Bangalore, I got a call that she'd passed away in a road accident. Some moron overtook her in a car and cut in too short, hitting her handle bar. The impact was so instant through the helmet that she didn't even know what hit her. 

I was again 350 km away, losing another soulmate, with no way home. It was all a blur from that point on, but I remember my cousin driving me back to Coimbatore.

In just a second, my Saran, my dad's daughter, was gone\! This time, I was gone for good.

## Me

I don't know who I am anymore. I'm out of tears, strength, and purpose now. I'm lost. Dead reckoning in the middle of an eternal storm … in total darkness\! For what it's worth, I know I'm just a host for some biological processes. After two months of failing to wither away, this is how I'm now grounded to be functional again with antidepressants and therapies … for my dad\!

I keep being reminded that grief is unique, and it's all the love that doesn't have a home. But I just can't comprehend it. Love needs a home. And I know where my home is. Definitely not this reality without my mom and wife in it\!

Dreams are the only solace I have left now. I see Saran and mom most nights. While their dreams keep me intact for a while, the waking reality sucks me right back into the vacuum towards the web of abysses. I wake up every morning screaming for them. Days pass glacially and it feels like I'm gasping for air at the centre of a blackhole, all the while burning and drowning at the same time.

"Mummy" and "Saran" are the words I keep hearing myself yearn for.

When I go home, I know how I'll be when I see my mothers again.