It Happened Last Night
IT HAPPENED LAST NIGHT
I could not help writhing in anger at the thought of the unendurable realities that I have been through. These truths do return to haunt me from time to time. Though they form a part of my past now, yet a reminiscence once in a while results in uncontrollable spasms of anger and hatred. They were so severe that I could not help shaking all over in anger.
The anger makes me realise that I have felt more steam and smoke than my peers. The more that I see of life, the more do I perceive that there is nothing particularly noble in its great walks, and also that there is nothing particularly small in mine. I feel that the greatest blessings vouchsafed to us are, after all, not as valuable, but I do feel at a great loss when they are taken away.
When these blessings are taken away, they seem to assume the greatest importance and significance. The simplicity with which this truth of life has been put forth before me is commendable. I sometimes marvel at the utter simplicity with which life has presented itself, but I am also awestruck by the metaphors used in telling the story: The Creator does have a wonderful sense of dramaturgy. He has used the element of surprise in the drama of life so judiciously that recognizing the truth of a moment of my life has been as exciting as discovering the soul of the universe.
The universe that exists around me is haunted by the ghosts of my past. My past has some beautiful moments under its umbrella. The entire aura becomes beautiful when I think of these moments, these thoughts have kept me kicking all these years. These thoughts are like a whiff of fresh air to me. They are my best friends: they listen to my inner voice, they can even read the echoes transcribed by my silence on the fabric of my life, they have been with me through thick and thin, they shall always be with me. Though the physical part of these moments have disappeared like vapour a soon as they have manifested themselves, yet their presence in my life is as essential as air in my lungs.
The air in my lungs is as essential to sustain me just as imagining the beautiful moments that just might be here someday sustain life within me: Zeenat sustains life within me: I must think of her, I must dream of her. The echoes of Zeenat's cries shall reverberate across all the corners of my life. Zeenat is the ray of hope for my sustenance. I wish for Zeenat as an insane man yearns for another life without insanity. Thinking of Zeenat has had the potential to push my emotions to the zenith. Her thoughts collide with my present, but the collision provides relief to me as the music produced by the collision is better than the one produced by last night's experiences.
Last night's experiences recurred a few moments ago. The spasms of anger and frustration that I experienced were certainly not pleasant. The worst part of this is that I cannot do anything to control this: the seeds were sown consciously or unconsciously a long time ago, but the fruits are being reaped today. These attacks could prove to be detrimental to my future: I must pay the price of the crimes that I did not commit, for the crimes committed by someone else.
Someone else would be required to fill in the gaps created by the foes of my history. The gaps would continue to haunt me till she takes over the reins of my life. I wonder how long these gaps would continue to haunt me. I am certainly not in a hurry, I want to enjoy every entity that life throws my way, I want to enjoy the moments of withdrawl that her presence would bring into my life. To enjoy them to their full potential, I must bear the spasms of anger and frustration, I must quietly bear what happened a few moments ago, and I must quietly bear last night's experiences. I cheer myself with the undying hope that she and Zeenat would prove to be worth all this and more, I hope my life is worth all this and more.
I could not help writhing in anger at the thought of the unendurable realities that I have been through. These truths do return to haunt me from time to time. Though they form a part of my past now, yet a reminiscence once in a while results in uncontrollable spasms of anger and hatred. They were so severe that I could not help shaking all over in anger.
The anger makes me realise that I have felt more steam and smoke than my peers. The more that I see of life, the more do I perceive that there is nothing particularly noble in its great walks, and also that there is nothing particularly small in mine. I feel that the greatest blessings vouchsafed to us are, after all, not as valuable, but I do feel at a great loss when they are taken away.
When these blessings are taken away, they seem to assume the greatest importance and significance. The simplicity with which this truth of life has been put forth before me is commendable. I sometimes marvel at the utter simplicity with which life has presented itself, but I am also awestruck by the metaphors used in telling the story: The Creator does have a wonderful sense of dramaturgy. He has used the element of surprise in the drama of life so judiciously that recognizing the truth of a moment of my life has been as exciting as discovering the soul of the universe.
The universe that exists around me is haunted by the ghosts of my past. My past has some beautiful moments under its umbrella. The entire aura becomes beautiful when I think of these moments, these thoughts have kept me kicking all these years. These thoughts are like a whiff of fresh air to me. They are my best friends: they listen to my inner voice, they can even read the echoes transcribed by my silence on the fabric of my life, they have been with me through thick and thin, they shall always be with me. Though the physical part of these moments have disappeared like vapour a soon as they have manifested themselves, yet their presence in my life is as essential as air in my lungs.
The air in my lungs is as essential to sustain me just as imagining the beautiful moments that just might be here someday sustain life within me: Zeenat sustains life within me: I must think of her, I must dream of her. The echoes of Zeenat's cries shall reverberate across all the corners of my life. Zeenat is the ray of hope for my sustenance. I wish for Zeenat as an insane man yearns for another life without insanity. Thinking of Zeenat has had the potential to push my emotions to the zenith. Her thoughts collide with my present, but the collision provides relief to me as the music produced by the collision is better than the one produced by last night's experiences.
Last night's experiences recurred a few moments ago. The spasms of anger and frustration that I experienced were certainly not pleasant. The worst part of this is that I cannot do anything to control this: the seeds were sown consciously or unconsciously a long time ago, but the fruits are being reaped today. These attacks could prove to be detrimental to my future: I must pay the price of the crimes that I did not commit, for the crimes committed by someone else.
Someone else would be required to fill in the gaps created by the foes of my history. The gaps would continue to haunt me till she takes over the reins of my life. I wonder how long these gaps would continue to haunt me. I am certainly not in a hurry, I want to enjoy every entity that life throws my way, I want to enjoy the moments of withdrawl that her presence would bring into my life. To enjoy them to their full potential, I must bear the spasms of anger and frustration, I must quietly bear what happened a few moments ago, and I must quietly bear last night's experiences. I cheer myself with the undying hope that she and Zeenat would prove to be worth all this and more, I hope my life is worth all this and more.
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