Musings on a rainy afternoon

Change is the only constant they tell you. But then they say somethings are meant to last forever. The world is full of contradictions. And so is the human heart. Maybe thats why one finds himself in a dilemma more often than not. Choices within choices, options within options. And one continues to play the Russian Roulette. You are safe until the bullet is safe within the confines of the cylinder. The muzzle stares at you with a grim smile, it's just doing its job. You got to let it be. Press the trigger knowing all the consequences that will follow. Sometimes the bullet and the muzzle align. And what follows is pain. Excruciating pain. Sometimes it is powerful enough to kill. But most often it doesn't. Leaves behind an ugly mark though. A cruel reminder of your poor choices. Of the poor calculations of your chances. But more over it is a stark reminder of your foolishness.

Regret is a by product of a decision that's gone wrong. Regret can hold you back. Intensify the pain even. But it is inevitable. But you need regret to deter you from making such a decision again. Regret often comes late, in fact by the time the enormity strikes you, it is too late to make any amends. The train has left the platform. She's gone. You are left back. With all your luggage. The same luggage that you now have to lunge around, everywhere you go. You can't dump it somewhere. You can't bring yourself to do that. You look inwards to. To reason out your delay. And the answers surprise you. Short term vision rings in your head. Taking you back to the financial markets class. You question your fundamentals? They are shaky you conclude.

You see postcards. The train has reached the destination. The pictures are up for everyone to see. New memories, the same smile, those same eyes. You are nowhere to be seen. You are here, writing this. The words on the screen are blur, screen is faulty you complain but wipe those tears when no one is looking. And the bullet is freshly lodged in your head. It hurts when you laugh loudly. You are going to carry it forever with the luggage that seems to be heavier now. Like someone stuffed drenched clothes in that battered backpack of yours. The postman won't deliver any letters because they are none. Your letters come back, with Return-to-Sender written on them. You don't recognize the handwriting though, maybe it's the postman but he is not entitled to write anything, read of course but write never. You know who it could be. But you don't want to believe yourself.

There is no hatred. There is a void. A void that will remain until one learns to live with it. And carry it around with the bullet and the backpack. But sometimes, one needs to look beyond oneself. There are greater troubles, heavier backpacks, bigger bullets to be carried. One can't get bogged down by this. One needs to continue the treacherous climb upwards. For the peak is the only way to salvation. For there lies nirvana. And maybe by then you wouldn't need that backpack. Maybe there would be another train to catch. Maybe there would be a new postman who would actually deliver letters written to me and not by me. Maybe the world wouldn't change so quickly then. Maybe somethings would last forever after all.

Comments

Anonymous said…
Beautifully written! Loved the imagery. Genuine and heartfelt. Keep it up! :)
Rushikesh said…
Dear Anonymous, thank you so much. I am glad you dropped by. :)
quaintkal said…
nakalat tu ugich kunachi tari athavan karun dilis :) tu sundar lihitos hey sangaychi garaj nahich mhana.
but after reading this one, i felt like i want to know more...
Rushikesh said…
Aga, asa story sarkha kahi nahi ga. Kahi tari suchla tar mi lihala.. ani thank you.
Anonymous said…
Rushi! Dropped by your blog after a while. Beautifully written piece. Poignant and fervid.

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