4 Dec 2013

Dandelions...


There are millions of moments in your life, ever wondered, just how many? And every such moment that passes by, forms a part of your memory. A memory that never rests until you rest forever.

The genius of human mind is indomitable but have we not restricted ourselves to a mere gaining of bookish knowledge, societal confirmation, adopting rigid beliefs and have stopped admiring smaller and simpler things in life?

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I wonder, always, how we wile away our time discussing about other people and expect them to change for us, to accommodate them in what we think is right and wrong. I wonder why we do not give the freedom to others to be as they are? We have to define every relationship - in friendship, in love, committed - and then we bind everybody, hold them liable for breaching the principle on which they first came together. 

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I wonder if we are humans anymore - such emotions - for which we were known to be separate from other beings - have now narrowed down to judgment, hatred, anger and jealousy. Love remains in novels and sappy teenage romances or marriages. What happened to forming platonic relationships - for mere conversations and coffees?

I wonder when a mere gazing at the night sky becomes luxury and spending days thinking are we what we wanted to be or never wanted to be, pondering over life aimlessly? Have we lost that sense of expecting magic and beauty which is scattered all around us? I feel astonished at how obnoxiously we display ourselves - having imbibed Shakespearean analogy of "The World is a stage" quite literally! 

I feel like an observer, a hermit actually, but the sense of wonder remains... in the beating of my heart to the days that come everyday, bringing a sense of relief and little joy. 

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I wonder if one slip is enough to call someone a betrayer or if one kiss is enough to call someone a lover? I see, now-a-days, yes. We are deaf to the stories of the people, we don't see why they are the way they are - because - no body is a saint, I hear. Have you wondered how many excuses we come up with, so that we do not change?

I wonder where the line blurs between when we cease to do things we love - that truly make our spirits soar - and the things people tell us to do as appropriate. May be this is the evolution that Charles Darwin or Einstein had imagined. 


The sense of wonder must not cease within us, the hope must remain - even in pain and death, for the every day that you see the sun, the sense of joy must remain - if alone or in crowd. The wonderment makes life beautiful. 

Blessed Be!

1 comment:

Blasphemous Aesthete said...

Isn't that why we write and read?

Though a believer in second or third chances, I've found lately that such chances can be gambled on things, or nuances external to a personality. Not on the innate nature. There, the first kiss would be the first kiss goodbye. Makes like less burdensome, relieved.

Cheers,
Blasphemous Aesthete