The Dead End.

You know it’s not your day when you log in to your Xmail accounts and find that there is not a single mail pining for you…not even a mail from your Prof screaming at you for not updating him on the project front. I know for a fact that my update mail is sitting happily in his inbox and he would just Shift+ Del it as trash and wait for my ISD call. Makes you wonder why one goes gaga over Internet.

Anything worth doing is worth delaying…that’s the philosophy for the day on my white board and I am still breaking my head on what to write here… I mean it’s all nice and cool to say “hey dude I got my own blog and blah…” but then what do I write in it?
I am sure the one who lands up at this page (even if it is by some freak chance) is not really interested in knowing if I am as jubilant as Bush or if I feel that the Indian cricket team needs to go into retirement. So why did I go to all this pain of creating my own blog. Beats me!

But then that is not the reason behind this whole exercise…i mean there are days when I have to write to somehow give voice to the anger welling up in me and then there are those euphoric moods when there are so many happy emotions having a fencing competition in my mind, that I need to sort them out before they kill each other…and there are days like today – Silent. Empty. Most of the time it is this silence I try to wipe away with those little squiggles running amuck …

However I forgot one other reason, by far the most important one on why I need to write…I need to see my name in print! Someone once said Power is the best known aphrodisiac but I feel Fame is equally good if not better. The very thought that a hundred netizens (Well there’s no harm in being optimistic) would read my piece and relate to it is a wonderful feeling…Now don’t get me wrong! I am not writing to change the world, or move the mountains but I am writing coz I am selfish…it is more to do with the perpendicular pronoun than anything else. 
Looks like I am stuck at a dead end and unless I know which brick to tap for a magical world to open in front my eyes, I am cornered. Till that magical moment unfurls… 

Of lifetimes lost in time spans...

To quote a perspective from Rathish’ blog “...it makes a world of difference when you look at what you have gained - a timespan that's worth a lifetime.” I agree.

This is not some bitter article in memory of a-love-that-could-have-been-mine nor is it one of those teary-eyed mushy letters about love's labours lost. In fact this is nothing now but maybe it would amount to something soon and eventually this would be everything I believe in. Hard to speculate now so I wouldn’t trespass into those grey areas.

Why do we talk about ‘a love lost’? How does one manage to lose love? Does that mean love is something that can be quantified, measured, treasured and in some cases lost? Can it be seen? Is that why we say we lost it, when we don’t see it anymore?
How? Why? Aah! the complex connotations to a simple word that moves the world.

*Sigh*

I don’t know about the rest of the world but I, for one haven’t lost love. Somehow, I never felt an urge to tie the two together. (I mean, love and lost). It is just one permutation/combination that didn’t click. How would that disprove the others? Does this mean, I sit in one place and run around the trees with mon amour in my dreams? Of course not, there is more to life and love than the few measly interpretations we choose to hold true.

I have been told time and again to let go and not to hold on…neither to people nor to their memories when they are gone. Easier said than done. You do move on in life…not leaving behind a love but carrying it. And no, it is not an unopened package, lying in some dark corner of your mind. ‘Unrequited love’, ‘Lost love’, ‘Broken heart’ –use any expression you want but to me it all means just one thing. Love exists in your life.

But what do you do with that truckload of anger, resentment, disappointment, you-name-it-I-feel-it-emotion on seeing a wise education sponsored dream termed as wild and buried alive under social commitments? 
You could do a rain-dance like the witch doctor in next door South America and hope the ensuing downpour buries you along with all that darn pain. Or you could sit in your little corner and count the scars you have (or the broken hearts in your trail, as the case may be) and forget to Live, while you are crunching those inconsequential numbers. Or better still, pour it all in a blog and try to clog the bandwidth, like yours truly just did. 
At the end of it (Damn the *#@%ing pun) do you know what aches the most? – That my lifetime didn’t last for that time span…