I’ll Write a Great Song (About You Someday) Pragati Nautiyal

I’LL WRITE A GREAT SONG (ABOUT YOU SOMEDAY)

Pragati Nautiyal Miranda House

I'll write a great song about you someday With pretty lines reminding one of heartbreak Yet I fail over and over to string words the right way So I write this song only to soothe my mind today

I can't understand all the feelings you left in my barren heart I stitch words together hoping it mends me before I fall apart Hold on to these pieces of my heart that I scatter along the way I promise my darling, I'll write a great song about you someday

I'll write a great song about you someday That evokes memories of love in people filled with hate Making one curse the ugly tricks played by fate The world rejoicing our story, for now I suffer and wait

In silent nights and loud sites, when only you feel like home In places you have not seen, trying to find a way but I don't So this song remains a mess, a reflection of how I feel Sing this with me today, I'll write a better one when I heal

I'll write a great song about you someday Filled with memories of the little moments we'd shared In the song we'll come alive, falling in love one final time In the lines, the perfect rhymes, I'll write the exact words Describing how it felt when you came and changed my world My heart will bleed through the ink with which I'll write the song But once I write the last word, I will finally move on Leaving behind everything that bound me for so long Till then I'll sing this imperfect song Till then you'll be an imperfect song

REMEMBERING SHIFA

A graduate of B.A. (Hons.) English and M.A. (Hons.) English, St. Stephen’s College, Shifa Christina Nicholson passed away on the 10th of October, 2018. Here, we record her words, and words written in remembrance by those who were dear to her and to whom she remains dear. Here, we pay tribute to her memory.

Dear Shifa,

I am asked to remember you. But the distance in time that is needed between the presence and absence for someone to be remembered hasn’t really moved at all for me.

In a way, I can’t remember you because I can’t seem to forget. It is almost like we haven’t met for a while and you are busy doing the things you did. As if, it is just a matter of another paper presentation and form filling days and during exams that I will see you again soon.

Sitting in cold on this bench behind the college church, where you liked to sit under half sun and half shade, talking endlessly about obscure books and teachers, mocking the system and laughing hilariously on the human conditions of being a literature student; I am trying to remember you.

What I have sitting beside me is a sense of ennui felt in your absence but not exactly your absence. Your presence is too strong in this college that I am unable to deliberate the act of remembrance because you don’t seem absent from us and you never will. It’s natural for us, all of your friends and teachers, to keep you alive in our memories.

While I do miss your presence, I wish to fill this ennui with what you had wished me to do: by constantly reading and returning to your words. You wrote ferociously and you typed even with a better pace that it was hard to keep up.

““Goodbye”, you had written in your poem ‘Ode to Goodbye’, “is not about being sad, upset or disappointed”, and quelled the gloom of your absence. “I celebrate this Goodbye as you are not part of my side of new beginning. For me this new beginning is the Time.”

I had once asked about your writing’s consistent theme of Time. You laughed it off and said you don’t care about Heidegger. “We need to stop being so textual and start paying attention to the people who surround us”, you had said. With a profound being of yours, you always demanded deeper commitments from literature. As you wrote:

“Which language do you dream in? Is it the language of zeros and ones? Or the language of human kind or any species for that matter? I’m hoping that your dreamland isn’t limited to your hard-drive or the data storage server rooms.”

You believed and owned your words. In ‘Why I write?’ you write: “I have faith in what I write. I somehow believe that my writings are made for a much better and greater cause. I am the medium to create them. I know, I have been created for a better and bigger cause, for a meaning to the world.”

As an eternal optimist, you were also deeply skeptical about the given truth and never ceased to ask the big questions about existence.

You write in ‘What’s the point?’: “Have you ever wondered about your existence, questioned your purpose and asked the reason why you are here? I have. I do. I do question God and myself on this. At times I get the answer through certain things hinting and pointing towards my purpose. It also shows that the journey is long and every moment I spend is a step closer to it. I also have this feeling that as I get closer to it, things are going to change into something more challenging. At times this gets frustrating. But then I realize this might be a necessary process that I need to go through in order to fulfill my purpose.

Many times people have told me, your purpose is to show the Miracle of God and to prove existence of Jesus as a living God, as the saviour and protector of His people. And to show that He listens to us, He is there for us. He is watching over us. He is the Protector and Provider for whosoever believes in Him and has Faith in Him.”

I was born with a certain blood disorder, doctors call it Thalassemia Major, where the body is not able to produce enough number of red blood cells. The treatment for this include regular blood transfusions and iron chelation medications. Recently, I was hit badly with heatstroke, which somehow stopped the functioning of my pancreas and lead me to the state of high blood sugar levels. I was admitted in a hospital and kept under observation in ICU for three days. Doctors examined and came to the conclusion that I have Diabetes Ketoacidosis (type 1). Cutting the long story short, I am now a patient of Thalassemia and Diabetes.”

While you questioned the fate, you did not give up hope. You walked the long distances to engage in literary and critical dialogue for two years with our batch. You presented newer knowledge and participated with great enthusiasm than most. You pushed me out of the Stephen’s library and showed me the numerous small worlds existed around it. You showed me how to see creatively and interestingly. Most of all, you showed how to conceal. You concealed your Time. You kept the name philosophy outside your discourse and philosophised every living breath. You read and thought aloud and never for once winced at the labour of love for literature.

You would insist on the ancient cultures of Agora of talking to everyone than simply quoting philosophers and yet would invoke Derrida in a casual gesture: “The centre marks its presence by its absence.” I learnt how to live the small joys, from you. I learnt how to unlearn the weight of social obligations from you. But the void that now sits permanently at the centre of your memories is omnipresent. There is no higher truth that your absence at this hour. This is our truth regarding you.

You spoke of Truth: In my opinion, truth is needed to maintain the balance of things, to keep things in order of nature, in its true form. At times it may be possible that truth may have to take different forms, or be in disguise to maintain that order of nature.

An ardent believer, we have often quarrelled and laughed over the existence of God. You would call me a ‘faithful atheist’. I would call you God’s patent kid. But your belief remained strong till the last hours, as you wrote: “For me, all of these things remain in the hands of God, for He has created our destinies and has already put us at work, for the plans He has created us for. In this Faith, I bid adieu for now!”

Forever missing you, with all your friends at St. Stephen’s College.

- Raghav Verma

Gear Up

Some fight, Some lose, And some tap-out of fear. In moments like these, firm up soldier. It’s just a warm-up, the real war is overhead next. Gear up your armor. Do not forget what defines you. Keep faith. Stand strong with the Words spoken ages ago. Fight with those Words etched in your hearts and minds. Love is the end and the beginning of it all. – Shifa Christina Nicholson

‘Gear Up’ was Shifa’s last post on her blog ‘Reiterating Thyself’ on 19 September 2018, almost a month before she was laid to rest. She reminded me twice to read it but because I was caught up with work, I gave it a quick glance and missed a crucial message that she was trying to convey through her words – to never give up no matter how hard it gets.

Her battle with thalassemia was excruciatingly hard and took a toll on her with every passing second. There were incessant blood transfusions, needles, doctors, all of which she despised to a great extent. However, Shifa always knew she was more than her circumstances, more than her diseases, more than her shortcomings. She strived, every day to fulfil all that she set her mind to – whether it was becoming the president of The Computer Society, participating in plays or acing her academics, she did it all. Most of us juggled life back-to-back classes, assignments, attendance, FYUP – Shifa on the other hand managed to do so much more.

Words were Shifa’s best friend, she loved expressing herself through her blogs, poems or sometimes through just a chat with a junior passing by the corridors or in the café. She was always lively with gleaming eyes and a warm smile. I can never forget her ringing laughter at my idiotic jokes that made no sense to me but always managed to crack her up. Whether it was catching up at Hudson Lane after college, or chilling at my house over sugar-free cold coffee, diet coke & amp, her favourite Giani’s chocolate ice cream – we spoke for hours, endlessly and I knew that over the past 4 years I had finally found my beautifully clichéd ‘best friend’.

Shifa was a powerhouse of strength, which she derived from the Word of Christ, her unwavering faith and determination to fight her battles – big or small never deterred her from becoming the person she wanted to be. She chose to remain happy at every step of the way – and if that is not an example of resolute courage, then what is?

- Rachel Francis

Dear Shifa, Where do I even start? You were truly one of a kind. You taught us big lessons through small actions each day and for that I'll forever be grateful to you. It was an honour knowing you, Shifu. I'll always cherish our time together. With all my love, Po

I still remember the first time I saw Shifa; her eyes were gleaming with joy as she stepped out of the interview hall for college admissions. She comforted the anxious student in me with her words of

assurance. At the end of our brief encounter, she wished me good luck and walked away much to my bewilderment. I did not know that I would find a friend in her even before my journey in college had begun.

The world might remember her as good daughter, sibling or a friend, but for me she was a beacon of hope. While her sickness rendered her broken and in pain, she would pick herself up, spread her wings and soar high again. Her resilience helped her get through more sorrow that most of us will ever know. It would have been easier for her to give up; surrender to the trials of her life and no one would have questioned her. She could have wallowed in self-pity, but she chose to fight till the moment she breathed her last.

Sometimes I forget that she is no longer with us until I scroll past her contact in my phone and I am reminded of her smile that I saw on the first day I met her. She walked into my life empty-handed, but left me with a lifetime's worth of memories that I shall reminisce. After so much of pain, it could not have been easy for her to go on with her life. Her strength was a testament to how deeply she was in love with life and those who were part of her journey. She will remain in my memory as a friend who was always the first to pick up the phone and ask, ‘are you alright?’ or ‘do you need any help?’

She is not with us any more, leaving us to grieve her passing with love and memories; the silhouette of a girl smiling as she walked through the college corridor. May her soul rest in peace.

- Sanjana Wilson

The last couple of months have been a terribly tragic time for all of us, as our most beloved Shifa left us all too soon. One thing I can say is that Shifa would be so very proud of the way that everyone has been there for each other and pulled together, united in their support. It just goes to show that we all carry a little bit of Shifa inside ourselves; that deeply entrenched natural instinct to care for one another. I remember when I met her sister Lakshiya at the funeral service, she was holding her tears back and making peace with the fact that her elder sister was at rest. She kept reminding herself and us to obey what Shifa had told her to do –that is, to not cry over her demise, but rather smile for she was in a better place and looking down at all of us.

I have known Shifa for 5 years now, and had she not told me, I would never have guessed on my own that she’s suffering from a major medical problem. It was during our post-graduation that I learnt about her illness. Despite her best efforts she wasn’t able to attend class regularly. But never did I ever see her lacking in her spirits to carry on with her studies and work at the same time. It was so inspiring yet so heart breaking to see such a young positive girl go through so much yet never giving up in life. She used to write beautiful blogs and ask my opinion on them. I was always in awe of her ever so endearing spirit to live with utmost grace, positivity and love above all. Shifa is so alive in every single one of us and between us we have so many amazing memories to share, so let’s just keep sharing them and enjoying them. She would want us to be happy. Laughter always got her through all her hard times and laughter will get us through ours. So I guess what I’m trying to say here is…and these are Shifa’s words, not mine, ‘This goodbye is not about being sad, upset or disappointed, for parting our ways in separate directions. Instead, The goodness behind this goodbye, Lies in the good feelings, best wishes, Well being of the cherished one.’

We carry her with us every day wherever we go, so to Shifa from all of us here today…this isn’t a goodbye, it’s just a different kind of hello!

- Radhika Singh

My first memory of Shifa is from the very first class we had. We were a bunch of nervous (some more than others) first years who had just finished orientation and settled down in Room A. The first distinction that made itself apparent for that first hour was that the class seemed to be divided into those who wanted to be noticed and those who wished professor’s wouldn’t give them a second glance. Being of the latter category for the first 3 months, I was easily impressed with the kids around me who would raise their hands and involve themselves in the proceedings of the class – Shifa was one of them. She was a small figure but a giant in many other ways. She was the computer wiz in our class of littérateurs, the go-to when it came to Photoshop related activities for Lit Soc conferences and events. Many a warm afternoon was spent basking in the SCR lawn, contemplating life and snacking on whatever was available. We knew that she was often sick, but she had incredible drive and never complained about circumstances. I think what I most admired about her was her incredible work ethic. Work was simply never left incomplete. No matter how tired or ill she had been she made sure that she completed all her work before sitting for her final examinations. In the safe space that academia provided us to grow and question, Shifa was a classmate with whom many a lively discussions were had.

It was easy to make her smile and she was always willing to laugh. That is how I remember her best and in this case, it is a very accurate memory of a warm and sunny person who made sure she fought till the end for a life she loved.

- Ansila Thomas