And I almost always forget. Sigh! Not that whether I am going forward or backward, is it the oblate spheroid earth or vertical me, the flowing time or the following life, the dream within dream or the dreamy me… but the funny fact that I have gone through all this before, in different measures, small degrees, little proportions and reflected on quite often.
Still, I simply, pleasingly forget.
Then things repeat, without my knowledge. Lucid ideas shine through and bring sense back to this life. Life! Surely very confident of itself, life is. Just look at the way it is happening.
Living an usherette’s life, I watch my story playing in every other story. A happy wallflower, that’s how confident I am. Dashingly, entering the stage in my mind, I take over. The glee moment, ideas collected elegantly.
Reality is not a plain horror story, it depends… just like senility is not only for aged, but it depends.
Oh! I mean, let us pick five memories and analyze all very humbly. Then watch a classic black and white movie and read a ‘must-read-before-you-die’ book, all very scrupulously.
Also, travel to a place never been before, pick it directly from your bucket list. Great!
After doing all this, surely vicariously for now, a tremendous clarity falls on the point I have been trying to make.
Life and the happenings, routine feelings and memories, hard hitting failures and mild successes, dreaming-trying-acting-dreaming and in the end, facing the underlying theme vibrant in every direction, almost deafening once observed, right?
No! What! No? Fine, am sorry, then forget it.
But, please, at least, try to deconstruct what is repeated in your life. That is all.
This happens every time without any exception. In my mind I am all set to study, I assure myself that today I’ll finish the topic I started a few days back.
No dragging the subject or dreaming about my success that will outshine others. Or thinking about friends and the golden time spent with them. With such a hope I sit and open my books.
Soon the evil forces put their plan to action against me and the funny thing is that their plan is always the same; and then I shout, ‘Where is my pen?’
I don’t know how but I always misplace my pen and then I can’t find it. Behind the books, under the table, on the chair…where!!!
I feel like Oompa Loompas are assigned this job to first hide the pen and then reveal it sitting in the silliest and most obvious place. All this breaks my concentration and I again find myself incapable of completing my goal.
Sometimes I keep my calm but mostly I foolishly complain.
My friend said that same happens with her, especially during the exam days. One thing or the other comes up to distract us- the sincere ones. And then we laugh at our brazenness.
So anyway, this is a puzzle shared by all, I guess. What do you say?
When choosing my flower’s colour /
Blindly I pick all – the sun decides /
Which one suits me more.
A storyteller, following the ancient tradition of cave chroniclers, standing in vrikshasana (the tree pose) on a hill top (it is sunny, but windy), breathing in and out stories (relishing it all, but at times overwhelmed), declares animatedly that she will continue to – tell stories, share rare story gems, and connect with the pacy universe while also keeping the website ad-free.
Big thanks to my readers. Stay tuned!
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Chiming Stories (formerly Home Chimes)
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