I stare at the streak of undulating ray of sunshine seeping in through my window and making a spectrum of patterns on the floor. I put my big toe on the many-hued pattern, it breaks into splinters and gradually makes my big toe a part of the jolly good show … all seem pertinent at the moment.I have become so accustomed with taking these little offerings that life unconditionally showers on me for granted, that I unconsciously overlook them. And sometimes, in a lazy Sunday afternoon, when I feel artsy and wax poetic, life's own little miracles and treats amaze me. I am overwhelmed with sudden realizations and find myself stuck in one of those fleeting moments of baffled gratitude....
In retrospect, I start to mull and ruminate, my conscious takes me to a joy ride !
We are always looking for ways to learn and charm and grasp, that the ordinary seem distant and the out-of-reach alluring. Perhaps, we will reap the rewards of our 'hard-work' someday. After reaching this impending, much awaited "success"…will that gypsy fortuneteller be still mysterious? That cool tranquil lake still tempting? Those dew drops on the overgrown grass still heavenly? The palmist still fascinating by saying things that we desperately want to hear? Or have we read every line of our palms, as we are the makers of our fate. Do they all lose charm?We know our future, every road, path and alley of it; we preplan what we will do ten years from now, what we will be. How we will walk through the smoke rings of time is already decided, the curse is cast.Some people die only to live again; to make angels of themselves. But no matter how many times we die we live only once and want to embellish our "only" life, as this life is so small and death so painful.
Decisions are already made; anguishes, depressions and desperation overcome. Our victory is inevitable...Half-life gone planning and the other half scheming to make our plans successful. Not a day wasted, neither a night slept, gathering dots and bits like the ant awaiting the winter. We indeed are successful people leading prosperous lives that fit into the mushy hallmark card passages......but then again...
I walk by the manhattan beach area in a sultry evening...Amidst the chaos, weekend delights, the appeal of a rainy weekend afternoon recess, I notice an old cranky man who quite don't fit into the scene but without whom the scene won't quite be complete either. I am baffled by his nonchalance towards his imperfection; his invisibility. He had the calmness about him that only comes with letting go....
I don’t envy him, no, not at all!
He gently taps his ragged Nike sneakers clad toes on the pavement of the sidewalk and chants:
"I might not be who you thought
We don't need any more fables
because the writers have passedand left us lesson less
And we must find our own way
We don't need any more privilege
There is vivid desperationthat is powerless
That no surplus can repay
Like the fix of rapture in a trance
Oh, fates are sealed by circumstance
So you've got to take a chance
Don't sell me short!"
I walk past him, I notice he smiles a dry, high, smile at me, that tells you stories of a thousand battles fought and lost..I smile back, and with those smiles, we make a pact, that we will never let anyone or anything "sell us short".....
