Alchemist
Friday evening. I returned from my office and went straight to cooking. Fridays are fun! You can spend so much time doing less mentally demanding tasks. I made some high-protein Paratha with Palak Paneer. While cooking, memories of home flooded me — how my sister passionately prepared meals. It was lovely to be home. Being 7000 km away, seeing the people you love only once a year, can be tough. This time when I go back, some people will not be there anymore — my sister and my grandpa. Despite being the younger child, I was the family’s understanding boy who would sacrifice for my sister. She is caring and emotional, exactly what I lack.
Though emotional, I rarely show it; to them, I’m like a stone.. I never cried in front of them, even when it was understandable. When my sister left home and everyone was sobbing, I wasn’t. When my grandpa passed away, I didn’t shed a tear publicly. I try to hide my emotions, perhaps because of my childhood and how I was raised. Emotions were not something I was taught to express, and I never thought they would be understood.
While devouring my meal, I started watching _Full Metal Alchemist_, one of the best series I’ve ever watched. It’s about two brothers, Ed and Ell. Ed lost an arm and a leg, and Ell lost his entire body, his soul now bound to a suit of armor, all in a failed attempt to bring their mother back from the dead.
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Ed carries the burden of guilt, believing he is responsible for Ell’s condition — living without senses, touch, smell, or taste. I love food so much; losing the ability to taste or smell would be a disaster. I can imagine the deep yearning to feel again, just as Ed wishes to make Ell whole again.
In the series, Ell is manipulated by a villain into thinking that Ed created him and forged his memories. This drove Ell to madness, refusing to speak to Ed. Ell is understandably caught in an existential crisis. But Ed finally confronts Ell during a battle. He opens up, asking if Ell hates him. Ed confesses that he could never hate his brother.
I soaked in their conversation. This feeling of self-hatred is all too familiar to me. I have a knack for it — I look down upon myself and I see myself. I cried. There are only a handful of moments when I’ve sobbed, and they can be counted. The scene’s emotional depth, Ed’s longing to make things right, and their reconciliation triggered emotions.
I’m not sure if it was the self-hatred or the line, “I can never hate you, brother,” that triggered my emotions. This scene was an emotional trigger for me. I remembered how, when my ex told me how much she loved me, I almost always cried. It seems all it takes for me to show my emotions is for someone else to show theirs. Emotional expression carries vulnerability. Vulnerability my subconscious must hide, apparently.
For Fridays, I thought of less mentally demanding tasks. Yet here I am on an emotional roller-coaster.
