The ability to write (and not type) is I believe an art, art that has been perfected for years and now passed onto us, just like any other tradition. In the digital age, this art is slowly losing its inheritance and worth. The fountain pen used to be epitome of writing skill, with the perfect cursive handwriting gathering applause and applauds. This art is rare to find nowadays. I recall one particular incident, though there would have been many I believe. Once I took a letter my dad wrote to get it xeroxed. The shopkeeper was awestruck to see the beautiful handwriting, and he confesses that he had never seen a Hindi handwriting as beautiful as this one. Maybe I got it from my dad, but I try to write as much as I can. I won’t lie, but this typing has got it’s claw on me too, and I use Evernote to “type” my thoughts, but I also try to write them down. There are only a few letters, but when used gracefully, they form the most beautiful images. Typed stuff seems so drudging, monotonous ; whereas with the handwritten article, there seems to be a feeling attached, a personalized appeal to it. The feeling is fulfilling, after a long tryst with pen and paper, the thought is etched permanently.
In the hopes and dreams
And all the anticipating thoughts
The moment will finally arrive
When the moon will shine and stars blink
Time will be lost somewhere
And I will see you standing there…
Thinking what to do now
Hug you, hold you or just walk beside you,
In the cacophony of thoughts
I will hear a soulful music of your voice
Will my heart dance to that tune
Or will it cherish your presence there?
Your voice helps me guide,
Bad dreams or rough night
In sickness or when I’m all right
When it’s cloudy or whether it’s shining bright
I know I will be alright
And when our dreams unite
Sparks fly and nights ignite
And together we will fly a kite
I see you, and I heave in sight
Maybe we will run through meadow bright
Holding each others hand tight
Settle down in a city of light
Because with you, life is never black and white.
Come and take me home,
I have been tired enough.
Come and show me the way,
I have been lost enough.
Just come around,
Please come around.
Come and sing me a song,
I have been away enough.
Come and let sleep befall,
I have been awake enough.
Just come around,
Please come around.
Everything that the earth helps grow and nurtures eventually end up destroying the earth itself. Consider us humans; and we are all revved up, blinded by the enormous profits and the craze for money that we ( well most of us), have turned a blind’s eye towards it, thinking that we won’t last long enough to witness the destruction, so they go on exploiting the very earth which helped us achieve what we are today. This is just an example to see. Well another and yet powerful example is the blindness and illogical way we preach our religion. God made us, but who made god? The answer is Us. We are always born free, but the things we nurture, habits we inculcate, beliefs we follow, eventually end up destroying our self in one way or another. Either we become biased or force others to believe what we believe. We are the reason for our own pitfall. Should I? Shouldn’t I? Questions always follow us. Is our life then a complicated mathematical equation with more variables? And then for every variable, there must then exist a separate simpler equation to solve the bigger complex one. But we are so engrossed in the bigger picture that we fail to see that the bigger picture is actually a mosaic of simpler ones. Maybe. May not be. Should I spend my time analyzing this stuff? This life has so many unanswered questions that maybe they should be left the way they are. The river of life will find its own path, pave its own way naturally, reach for harmony, settle with peace; unless otherwise forced to follow a strict and complicated route. Just to live simply, should life be led impromptu, and let it decide for itself?