What If

"Those who are wise do not feel sorry over fate. Even with the greatest wisdom, that which is ordained will happen. No one can transgress the path that has been laid down."

--- Anukramanika Parva, The Mahabharata

Still we feel sorry over fate. You. I. We. Everybody. What if we could travel back in time and rectify our mistakes? What if we would have chosen a different path? What if this? What if that?

But no. No one can change his/her past. Only the present is ours. We all know that. Still when we ponder over our life's course in some lazy afternoon or in some sleepless night, we think about these 'what if's, though these thoughts are useless.

What if I hadn't met you?
What if I hadn't fallen in love,

With the wrong person, at the wrong time?
Could my life had been any different

Than it is now?
May be then that the naive girl

Would never have ceased to exist.
May be then that this cynical version of me

Would never have emerged.

What if we never made love
On that fateful night,

Like two intoxicated lovers,
Madly in love with each other?

May be then that we would never have become parents.
But what good does it serve 
To bring a new life on this earth
Born out of a broken marriage?

What if...

What if...

This post is a part of Write Over the Weekend,

an initiative for Indian Bloggers by BlogAdda.

This is a WOW post!

Facts vs Myths

"HOWEVER, for practical purposes, in a hopelessly practical world..."

---Arundhati Roy

I thought of promises to be forever,

Till life happened,

And I learnt that 'forever' is a lie.

I thought of 'love' to be everlasting,

Till life happened,

And I learnt that 'everlasting' is a myth.

I thought of 'togetherness' to last till twilight,

Till life happened,

And I learnt that nothing in the world is permanent.

In a dystopian world

Driven solely by mundane concerns,

Practicality competes with ideologies

To gain primacy;

And narcissism emerges as the sole driving force

Behind rational human species.

Life in A Small Town

She turned the key in the lock and opened the door. A sliver of light from the bulb in the staircase sneaked inside the room and made it partially visible. She fumbled for a few seconds in the semi-darkness of the room before she could lay her hands on the switchboard in the wall in right. She pressed all the switches in the switchboard in the hope that one among them must be the switch of the tubelight of the room. And she was right. The tubelight went on and lighted the entire room. She put off her sandals and closed the door behind. The first evening in this small town of Bengal welcomed her in the small neat flat rented by her.

Welcome to my life for it is my story. Being a government officer means I get transferred to a new place every few years. I am accustomed to this life. But this time it was different as I had to leave behind my 6-years-old son. He had started his school and as none of my family members were in a position to move with me, I had no other way but to leave him in the care of my family members back at home.

That first day in that new place, new abode of mine, I felt terribly lonely. As if I was living in a far off place in exile. As if that was a barren place, devoid of any human touch, any semblance of love. The windows of my bedroom opened in the backyard of the apartment. There was a boundary wall and a few trees beside the wall. On the other side of the wall, there was an open field and a poultry farm. No human being was in sight as far as my eyes could see. I felt loveless, alone, vulnerable.

When I returned home from office, I was quite busy. It was drizzling outside and in spite of the untimely rain, I had to venture outside to buy the bare necessities for survival. On my return, I had to wash the utensils and make arrangements for dinner. I washed the rice and lentils, cut the vegetables in pieces, made an omlette. After I was done with dinner, I combed my hair and plaited it. Finally when it was time to go to sleep, I suddenly felt that sleep had eluded me. Sitting in that dark bedroom, in that rain-drenched October night, I was missing my son terribly. Hot tears rolled down my cheeks and there was no one to console me. Finally I got asleep at the wee hours of night. Next day I got up with a headache and missed office. But I knew that no matter what happens, I would have to survive every ordeal. I would have to find happiness in the midst of all. And I started to accustom myself with life in that small town. Because no matter how difficult the circumstances are, life must go on.

This post is a part of Write Over the Weekend,

 

an initiative for Indian Bloggers by BlogAdda.

This is a WOW post!