Skip to main content

A fresh year

At last! 2009 is going to end. I was just waiting for this day. Whether we believe in it or not, sometimes customs and superstitions both make us vulnerable to emotions we otherwise shy away from. I don't think there are many people in this world, despite their religion or personal beliefs, who do not believe that the new year ushers in better things in our lives. Our hopes renew themselves on January 1. Everyone will secretly hope for the lost things to come back, for fresh beginnings and for stale things to end. I am hoping that this year brings back my loved ones whom I have not yet given up for lost. Let me keep my fingers crossed with a bright smile on my face.

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Why?

I miss the complexity of the book and am tired of the predictability of people. Reading each page of a book takes you to a different realm, and often surprises you with its observations. I agree books are written by people, but why do people remain predictable in life and unpredictable in fiction? 

The next step forward

“ What is the feeling when you're driving away from people, and they recede on the plain till you see their specks dispersing? It's the too huge world vaulting us, and it's goodbye. But we lean forward to the next crazy venture beneath the skies.” -- Jack Kerouac (American Poet and Novelist) From what I have seen and admired in humans, they are eternal optimists. Goodbyes seem to break us, but we straighten up and walk, holding our head high, blinking away our tears. And as regards the specks of people dispersing, when something moves away, something else comes near. Guess that's how laws of nature move. If a time comes when nothing else comes near, it's when we will become really alone; alone to live and love life without any reason, taking the next step forward.

Caterpillar or butterfly?

'Caught in a strange land in a net with other butterflies, I'm a caterpillar yet undecided to remain a caterpillar and perish or turn into a beautiful butterfly and live a life full of joy.' Readers don't laugh. But I came up with this one night recently when I was travelling in a train. I tossed and turned, not being able to sleep, upset over unexplainable things and frustrated over events not in my control. Then it occurred to me that our life and its usefulness depends on our decisions -- whether to remain a crawling caterpillar whose existence otherwise is either ignored by all and sundry or who is cursed for just being there and thrown out with a stick, or to develop wings of life and metamorphose into a beautiful butterfly whom everybody adores for its beauty and colour, for its flitting liveliness, for its service to the flower's pollination... I thought that I should be a butterfly, of service to others, but then again I thought, anyway, who really cares?