Creativity Magazine

The Final Adios.

Posted on the 23 March 2013 by Brinda @BrindaKrish
Quiet some time ago, when the blog was in its infant phase, I wrote a poem, "they are all sleeping". The idea surfaced on seeing an ambulance rush on the busy streets of IISc.
Death. An inevitable fact. The sole purpose of this life. Who knows when it would knock your doors with an arms spread to give you a hug? We continue living, hoping it is not today, neither will it be tomorrow. An alarm set before bedtime with a hope that tomorrow will indeed come. "Have a nice day" we say as we smile, with an assurance today is not the day.
How different would the day be if hope and lack of knowledge were not a friends of ours? A friend commented, "in the name of principle, don't let go your chance to try. Experiment and do things that make you happy. Make a list of been there, done that so long that you can hardly come up with a new thing to add in there. So, get drunk, flirt, kiss, be a brat, scuba and sky dive, touch people's life as you go. Just live it like there is no tomorrow."
I like them all that this friend commented but, what touched me the most or, what made me write this post, is "touch people's life as you go". The whole idea I started this post was about touching lives before you go. How much love can one offer? How many times can the same love hurt the person? How anger, ego and self esteem bites down that love? How important a role forgiveness plays in touching peoples life?
The final adios. Not talking to a person because anger is still crawling with its slimy body around your neck! You give your anger time to move down your shoulder. And while you are busy giving it time to crawl down your feet, the phone rings. The person you are angry with, met his/her destination. A life you knew, fulfilled its purpose. Yes! there was a knock on the door and a man stood with arms wide open. Such inviting arms with such promising dreams, that this life could not resist the temptation. A temptation so evil that it did not even turn back to bid a final good bye to you. And the only thing you remember of this life is how angry you were with it. You dream of this face. The face of this life gradually fading as it leaves behind an image. An image of it apologetically looking at you as you wake up from your dream.
What use is the anger to carry now you think?
What use was it then anyway?


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