“Maut toh naam se badnaam hai, warna zindagi bhi kamm gham thori na deti hai.”

It is a very awkward thing to know what makes one’s life happy. Poor and rich, both have failed. And thus, life hasnt been spared by anyone. Its cursed all over, very rarely realized how prized a possession it is. And cursed the best at the hands of the poets and authors whose metaphors and similes seem countless in an attempt to explain ‘life.’ One of those attempts by Selma Lagerlöf, is the best I have ever read —- the whole world with its lands and seas, its cities and villages—was nothing but a big rat trap. It had never existed for any other purpose than to set baits for people. It offered riches and joys, shelter and food, heat and clothing, exactly as the rat trap offered cheese and pork, and as soon as anyone let himself be tempted to touch the bait, it closed in on him, and then everything came to an end.

Not as much to curse it, this shall be my attempt to explain ‘life.’

Sands. The same abundance as life. The realization that they were always there, but it was so late to find meaning in them, quiet similar are sands to life.

Sands, near the sea.
“Kitna bhi sammet le yaha, aakhir mei chhoot hi jaata hai.” One can gather all the sand he can, but still, he cannot gather all. Life always ends at an incomplete note. One can try and squeeze all from life, but there will still be things left behind. There’s the one loophole in the hand, from where keeps falling the sands we have gathered. What we’ve gathered, what we’ve achieved are not permanent.And then, the sea going back and coming again and each time, taking the sands with them. How appropriate to explain that component which is so inevitable to life: Loss. The sea separates the sands which were always held together. Loss co-exists with life.




Sands, in the desert.
The desert seems endless. Heat burning its dunes. Sand dunes and only sand dunes. There are no ends. Hardships seem endless, and there are times when there are no ways out. “There it is. The lake is there.” When you draw close, like spellbound are the deserts, as there’s no water now. Mirage, highlight of the masked realities in life. Temporary happiness, leads us to wrong direction only to starve us later. But then there are traces which are hard to find alike success in life. There are trails to Oasis.

sandtimeSands, in the glass.
From one chamber to another, sands in the glass are sands of time. Life vs Time. One of those races, where the winner is definite, though life shall race against, with all its might. Sands slipping down, fast diminishing from one chamber, but still difficult to gauge how much will it actually last. With end drawing close, life is a play at the hand of uncertainties. Glass can be turned over, to live through the countdown again, like new life nurtures only to be a part of the same race.
And the same glass is turned over. Life doesn’t give that lemon.

“If you want to leave a mark on the sands, do not drag your feet”
You only live once. Run free on sands. The abundance is yours for living.


About Chetan

A twenty year old infant who fears if crows may shit on him or if Bengali aunties' umbrellas may prick him in the eye. He is currently waiting for Mamata Banerjee to leave Kolkata.

Posted on November 28, 2013, in Specials. Bookmark the permalink. Leave a comment.

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