Holding Out

A whole is the summation of parts:  
When a part is lost,others don't add up 
And then you start at the beginning 
Recounting all that you lost, replacing parts of your whole. 


I am flying at a height of 36,000 ft.  I look out the window to see the white, blue and orange stand still. It's almost like nothing has changed. 
Suspended. 
in the moment...
Hanging in or onto something? 


As I sense  touching the sky, I think to myself, am I closer to you?Childish I suppose. 


Every night I wish myself a dream. I write you in it. 
I remember your smile , we have conversations about the other day, I even exact your voice and how you explained the most mundane political news to me. I imagine you would indeed call me in the morning. At the back of my mind I will myself to come hug you tight. 

Then I wake up, feeling like I may have woken up into a dream. That in fact, last night was real. 

But I shake off that surreal feeling. And go through motions of life. 
Except that at every quiet corner, I find a few snobs escape me. I was grown up a long time ago, but I truly din't realise it till I missed having you beside me. Many many things, can be told. 
But the most unshakable is that solid knock. That in fact, hearing your voice, being nagged by you about being safe while travelling, and eating my food on time; it is never going to happen again. 

The certain finite existence is something to get used to. But when I find myself, standing my own, knowing that you are not just there to pick me up, that no matter how tired I am, how defeated I feel - I do it alone. How did you do it all , all long ? Knowing the strength it took, makes me love you even more. 

I have found myself plummeting into a gut-wrenching free fall, without your gravity to hold me down. 
But for all the storms you chased, my requiem for you, is that when it rains down tonight, you will still find me holding out. 

Your memory alone is a reason enough. For every time I run breathless, you remind me to breathe again.

You are missed dearly, Hajurbua.

Forever and more ... 

Side-Notes

Innocence will never see light, in the shadow of the past. 


Prologue 

The way I see it. It's a vicious cycle. 
For far too long I have looked at it from a distance, and seen myself suffer as the victim of collateral damage. 
Perhaps, it did start out like that. But at some point, standing on the periphery, I have been sucked into the whirlpool of consequences that follow as aftermath. 
The ripples. The shore is never safe. You always run the risk of being carried away. That log may have withstood a tempest, but it will keep getting dragged , moss and erosion continuing, until one day when it sinks. 
And lately, I feel I will need to sink. 

Cobwebs 

I wasn't the perpetrator of the crimes committed, nor was I the aggravator in this story. No there were those bigger heroes and heroines. I was standing there for far too long, itching to let go. I did not want to clap. I did not want to cry. I just wanted to collect what I could save, and go away. Produce a new show, where characters that I took along with me could enjoy an occasional smile. Take the stuff of things that life is made of, and celebrate. 
Cobwebs were never my thing. I never wanted to yield into them. 
But, maybe the people of yore are right about the stars- Destiny cannot be tamed. 
Something that was started by the creators will probably need to see an end at my hand. 
I am looked upon as the survivor, but maybe I could save everyone the drama. 


The Caretakers 

Foolish..oh how foolish, to assume the role. But I will thrill myself. I will come out from the seams of the side- curtains. I cannot watch this horrid play unfold. Because today, I stand as a witness with a plot worth of uncanny deeds. If the directors are waiting for my entry to save the falling hero, what if I disappointed them all. The audience may rejoice, shed a single-tear, leave disgusted, applaud even - but I would have exacted a reaction.  
I think to myself:  
What keeps a story going - Hope?  Well, I will take that 'Hope' away. 
If I am to come riding into the sun, save the damsel in distress, ease the well-wishers of my safety from the treacherous, and relieve the caretakers of further demonstration of love and affection. Today, I will do it all with one brilliant stroke of mastery. I will set the pace now, 
If the kingdom will not see its knight, will it crumple and fall? 

Clarity 

I see all else around me clearly. They depend, they depend on me to make my entry. What if I don't come? A small part, indeed; yet,  the event will play around me now, won't it? What will the damsel do if I don't rescue. Nothing to lean on? What will those worried folks do- if the root of their worry is taken away, because if the knight is erased, the damsel has no hope- they will have two less to worry about. 
Oh, and them caretakers- with no one to relent, or regret - they shall not care for, anymore. They will not have to. They will be relieved.   
Why din't the writer think of this end? Isn't it more befitting? 

Epilogue 

And when all else fails, know that there is answer in the absolute truth- and that truth hides in the crevasses, knowing what you've always known. We are in a sense, all, each other's consequences. You made me the knight. And today I grew tired. I chose to end this in the most effective curtain-fall. 
The book may someday be re-written. And however, it will be told, my part will not be remembered as diminished. But I seek solace in fact that I won't be there to know. Hero or otherwise, I would have seen that the end did come.  

Of heroes and Heroines

Disclaimer:-

I was asked to write a letter to a character that inspired me. My heroine , a 'character of strength', is NOT fictional and may not necessarily appeal to mass interest, but in iteration, the unfolding of her world is in every bit, an epic tale of a league of silent heroes...

Dear Princess Sultana Al S'aud,

You must have, since the unveiling of your life, received letters from women across continents and faith; I assure you my note wouldn't be any different. 

Novelist Wallace Stegner,  very beautifully penned in his title, All The Little Live Things -  "There is a sense in which we are all each other's consequences". I couldn't agree more. I am, as you often recall in your telling, 'one among the more fortunate'. In that, I mean, I was born to a grandmother with a mighty heart who with her love and fierceness instilled a sense of courage in me. All of what I am, who I am, at twenty-odd years of my life is a reminder of her strength and will. 

I wouldn't say that I was born on harsh terrains of fundamentalism where my kind suffers. No. I am blessed to be surrounded by men who are not just liberal in their thoughts but also persevere, through their actions, to preserve the well-being of their women-folk: I am very much loved and respected. However, I know that this is not how it always was. And over the years having moved out of my familiar surroundings, I have come to a shocking and humbling realisation that it is definitely not so everywhere and with every one. 

As an adolescent in my naivety I may have reprimanded  men, peers and acquaintances, making backward underhanded chauvinistic remarks; I may have also in a rage thrown anger-tantrums; been livid at the course of action meted by the men to women and girls... 

In aftermath, I have found myself, therefore, questioning, "what is it to be a woman, today?" The answer of course is crippling because I was no longer the beloved child of my house but a woman of the society. And while my version of the society may not be barbaric, yet, even in its ultra-urban sense, predominantly is within patriarchal trappings. They maybe subtle but they are in myriad forms, and in numbers thus, many. Since, I attempted to understand, arrive at a solution albeit could find none; if anything it only exposed so many more gaping wounds. 

And then, I read your story, story of the women in your life-  it is natural to weep at the plight, but you are simultaneously inspired by the resilience and bold hearts that the discourse is replete with. More importantly in my reading and in your words of wisdom, I have found a resolute and the sense of a solace. 

I concur with you that you will be suppressed, if you allow yourself to be. Irony remains that those who inflict pain upon us are also the ones we turn to, to protect us- them Men! 

But through your actions and your thoughts you took charge in the face of opposition, and no matter how little you may have objectively affected the state of affairs; you did set a ripple in motion. The power you wielded will be felt by the generations of women ahead of you, your daughters included, much like my grandmother's efforts resonates in my life and destiny. 

Thank-you for the grit you displayed by telling your story and reminding that we need to be the change we want to see; that no battle is small or big, and most importantly for a promise you have shown to the women in your land in the underbelly of darkness. 

We all have a lot to learn...

In rapt reverence,

Aishwarya

Note to the readers: 

Taking a page from the Princess' books ; we, as women, have to rise above and take control of our situation. We cannot just depend on the good men of our society- for what good do pillars do if the foundation itself is weak. We may not want to pay heed to the bleakness of our lives, but we have to bear the beacon of hope for our daughters and their daughters - for they will reap the fruits of our labour. 

And to the privileged lot of us women, we cannot be removed from the affairs of our sisters, we have to move beyond our commiseration. It saddens me sometimes, how we have indulgently wasted away our favours in being self-sufficient. By that I don't mean, walk to the streets and start parading; we all choose our methods of battle. What I  mean is, if you are educated, your parents have fought right to pay for your benefits, please do not squalor away that opportunity by gracing your homes alone. Showoff and show by example that you can lead. The more the number the better. 

Having said that, if you take to caring for your family, it should be because you love them , not because circumstances favour that a woman take over, and you automatically fill in the shoes.  Your nurturing nature, is somebody's privilege and not your obligation. 

If you are beautiful, don't allow yourself to be reduced to a commodity; your beauty should be your confidence and not a vulnerability. 

If a man is alone, he is perceived as desired and if a woman is alone she is assumed to be with fault - a defect or an attitude. So when you choose to be either, remember, it is your choice, and you allow either- you do not need a third party endorsement and you might as well be prepared to face the odds. 

I think on a larger note, what I am trying to say is do not succumb. Sometimes your biggest adversaries are the ones closest to home, which means your fight will only get tougher. The idea is not to defeat somebody else. It is to win your dignity and lend it to our sisterhood. Heroes are not extraordinary but heroines need to be extraordinary. God Speed! 

#BANWOMEN

We are no strangers to unconstitutional court-rooms, where decisions for a society are taken behind closed doors, without the members of the said society having any actual say in it. For most part, we are responsible for it because we do not care. So long as our doors are safe, we believe so is everything and choose to remain blind.  

But that changed in 2012, for India. Nirbhaya did not allow Rape to be filed as a backyard alley incident anymore; her story did not simmer down. Matters were no longer relegated to lengthy debates. A country, and its men and women marched the streets and showed a solidarity, a united front in the face of moral depravity. You may have heard in the recent news of a certain British filmmaker Leslee Udwin’s film, India’s Daughter.  But you will not watch this documentary. Why you ask? Because the BBC’s broadcast in India has been “unceremoniously silenced”. If anything rumours are brew that she is sought by the home ministry who plans to take legal actions. Comments go as, “The government condemns it. It will not allow any organisation to leverage such an incident (the gang rape).”

The fore-runners of our country's government seem to have taken to this film with great displeasure, ‘horror and shock’, so it seems. While, there is an ongoing debate on who granted the No-Objection certificate /permission for the film (Mr. Shinde denies involvement), I am more interested in how the Judiciary seems to be handing out injunctions like the Independence flag. Today, a Ban is easier to get than drinking water. Which then, leads me to believe that perhaps, an easier solution to this volatile state of affairs is to BAN the root cause of all this problem - The Women! #BanWomen. Because, certainly there is nothing wrong with Culture that raises Men to think that they are the masters. And obviously there is nothing wrong with the three-tiered system- Legislative, Judiciary and Executive that encourages this degressive thought-seed.  Please pardon if I hurt a ‘collective sentiment’; I do not wish to be banned, but I am quite frankly agitated.

And as an excellent exhibit of how un-yielding any amount of national discourse is, Home Minister Rajnath Singh on Wednesday had vowed that the government will not allow the telecast of the film - #IndiasDaughter, ‘under any circumstances’ in the country. “As soon as I got to know about this, I felt an unhappiness within and I immediately called up the concerned officials… Even before I got the information, I had said that this documentary should not be broadcast under any circumstances — be it on web portals, print media or electronic media,” said Singh on Wednesday. (Indian Express, March 5th )

Surely, Sir, you don't think this is an imaginary monster, who if you shut your eyes, will go away? 'Defaming' is not so much the same as showing your dirty laundry. The commission of the crime, is by nature defacto to the premise of the film- or do you deny that the incident happened at all. 

Narrating an incident, as is, with the patrol of voluntary speech is not the same as instigating political turmoil by manipulating religious sentiments. Need I refresh your memory to the more recent demonstration of an absolutely undemocratic verdict - Banning of Beef in Maharashtra. Again, no news of minorities (strictly speaking, it’s my personal opinion).  Do not think, that the country is dumb enough not to notice insinuations. The jury can paint whatever facade on it- Animal protection, safeguarding, et al. But with wide-spread crimes such as Terrorism, Women's safety issues, human trafficking, civil wars, inflation, corruption, poverty, education, economic duress, to so much as upliftment of living standards in your armed forces, I will not accept the precedence of bovine affairs before these time-sensitive and imperial concerns. Sorry, call me selfish, but I am one of those who believes that Human lives are valuable. And yes 'more' valuable, god may strike me!

By #Thomas

        By #Thomas

You'd be wise to note that your grounds of securing this injunction could be a misinformed choice. There are more personal benefits I can count, and along with me a literate population of Indian women- who you seem to have conveniently buried under the hatchet. If nothing, this film could be a tool for gender sensitization, social experiments with observations in controlled environments, and so much more. 

I could be wrong. I could be ignorant of how diplomacy works or how science works.

Could this documentary be sensitive? Yes. Can this be issued in layered stages within monitored public domains? Perhaps, yes. But a complete Ban on the film?! Un-necessary. And if you think it is, you need to reason with logic as to why. Why this sealing? What monstrosity are you fearing that hasn't already been committed? In doing so, you have only affirmed an already ongoing fear- that our country is not only incapable of protecting us, its women, but is also Ashamed of Us.  Is Sanjay Hegde right to say so (and God Bless the man for his sensitivity). Are you then? Because by not telling our story, you are mollycoddling this country's people, who desperately need to hear it straight from the horse's mouth- harsh as it is. The more I see it, it's worse than rape. You are leaving us bereft of redeemable virtues- which I feel is the intention at heart of this bold, bold film. 

And while you are moving heaven and earth to ensure that this film doesn't see the light of day, this Man and many like him, continue to believe, "We have the best culture. In our culture there is no place for women."- M.L. Sharma, defence lawyer for the rapists in the Nirbhaya case.

I can't speak for you sir, but I do believe that a Few Good Men can bring the change. For myself, I refuse to wallow in the shadows.

We will not be able to sway your decision to ban the film; having said that, it will still be watched by the world. But, what A.P. Singh has said, and what M.L. Sharma has said is defaming my Grandmother, My Mother, My Sisters, My Friends, My Colleagues, My Country and My Gender and I demand an injunction on his ‘freedom of expression’.

It is critical, we know - Does the government condemn him or not? Will you BAN HIM from thinking or will you not? !  

You're alright, I s'pose.

Tamed, she will be not;  

always agile, 

her flitting spirits 

finds no home ashore a calm cove.  

WE, the millennial women are drunk on confidence, success and a whole lot of freedom. We are self-sufficient and a better-half is not on our mandate for happiness, spare our feelings. There is so much of beauty and knowledge to be consumed that wasting even a second chasing pavements feels grossly erroneous . Time is precious and so is our youth -  our experiences are our treasure troves. 

And I for one, have often pondered, if our hedonistic pleasure in our Independence is our Achilles' heels?  

It is the sea with its waves-

adrift and turbulent, 

that beckons her: 

howling her name, 

whispering its sweetness,

until she surrenders to the madness...   

There seems to be a general consensus within my fellow-kind of progressive, single, Quarter-aged-and-above ladies that when it comes to Love, we are running low on fuel! We'd much rather sleep our sorrows through, and talk to some (Organic) Food while at it. We are too happy counting the calories, spending weekends making elaborate savings plans slash budgets for travels, content with shopping ONLY what we need, trying to convince ourselves that Salads and Yoga are actually the way to go and regret all those years of Drunchies. Splurging is blasphemy (but we still indulge anyway and after, feel guilty about it) and beer is not only distasteful but is so much better for the hair! Vodka, I am so not having another hangover with you, my old friend. 

Sangria brunches and spas suddenly seem more appetizing than pub-hopping and over-hauled dancing the night away. 

We have pets, home decorations, language classes and trash TV to make-up for quality time. At social gatherings you steal glances of supposedly happy couples and muse at what their daily lives must be. You are in possession of this perverse pretend-power that allows you this unique perspective where every act of decoy becomes transparent, and every syllable uttered will be transcribed for hidden flaws. 

"You wanted my attention? You have it. Now make it worth my time!" 

Mercifully, we can hold both our drink and the tongue well - avoiding the thundering recollection of awkward social events, especially those that concern the well-wishers who have no business minding their own.

So, in this , all and merry land- what seems to be the trouble? It is this nagging feeling at the back of your head that you are strangely normal and very much so without a beau. 

I would even go far enough to say that it's not so much the Presence but the gaping Absence of it- that is not the most comforting. 

If I could be found on any island- it would be called I-G-N-O-R-A-N-C-E, and you'd find it very blissful.  A demonstration of my fondness for this beloved state is my frequent attempts at nonchalantly dismissing 'love' references and replacing it with more conducive exponents of 'logos'.  

Log #1- Date: 12th February (through 13th February) 

On the said particular day, as I set about to busy myself with chores and all-important tasks- a desperate attempt to set order to the chaos in my physical environment; admittedly, I am short-fused in the mind. A rumble-tumble of sorts. I am unwittingly holding on to an image of multi-colored balloons with the hope of avoiding a step in the general direction of that unsullied ground. 

Let's take the happy thoughts out for a walk! 

Just as my mind begins to saunter in the wayward direction, at which point exactly, I scold myself and begin to chalk-up a list of things to-do this weekend- stuff to buy, arrangements to make, re-visit my new year resolutions and my progress report on it, sulk about my over-weight, the loss of hair, or their graying, remember to plan my next travel and then consequently get hit by the speeding depletion of digits in my bank account. 

Surprisingly, my brain can process all of the above at an exponential rate and I am, yet again,  brought to a screeching hault and ungracefully  dumped at the sign board reading 'Alert! Cupid's gone missing!' 

Log #2- Date: 14th February

Yes, thank-you, world! For the umpteenth time, I was witness to your time-honoured tradition of Valentine's Day. It played out on my non-existent big flat-screen, only mine does not have a remote-control to switch to other channels.  Oh and 'twas HD, 5-D and all the pizzazz- so I don't get to miss out on anything but the participation! 

How people ever expressed love before 14th of Feb, actually became 14th of Feb, is an astounding feat ! I imagine history books would have records. 

It's called Taj Mahal! Go build one, David Beckham ! And something that is non-corrosive, please!

In the meanwhile, Cupid and I are taking a break. We went out drinking once, but then taxes happened and everything became expensive! And since, in some twisted indignation I hold, I like to pay my own bills- these rendezvous got reduced to service taxes and VATs. In simple words, I could not afford it. 

If that does not make the cut, in the world of the intertubes you are never too far way from decadence of hearts - splashed all across your screen. Oh, we are such exhibitionists- this YOLO generation of ours! and sadly that does not help my cause. 

Log #3- Date: 15th February and since 

This part, I call retrospection. 

Growing up,  as a teen, attraction and chemistry constituted the provenance of  'Love'. This implied, that there was time to pursue, to be wooed, to explore. Romancing somehow took precedence over 'going strong'.  Enter the 20's- that part of your life where you are very certain about being uncertain; you are young, gutsy and arguably- desired. Predictably so, the thrill of the chase keeps you hooked. 'Steady' is really 'too soon' and 'a good, nice man' is boring. No, you want to feel ticklish with passion: is he spontaneous? Does he have a sense of humour? Is he a megalomaniac? Check.Check and Check! 

Then comes the mid-20's. Here you are fast approaching a stage where you think you should commit, but, 'What If' , there are other possibilities. You tag along anyway until one midnight, the mother-of-all-epiphany hits you with that staunch smell of LIT and all of a sudden you find yourself surrounded by douchebags and Tomfoolery. 

As you have grown older and more comfortable in your skin, you have also run out of time, options and patience. You know what you want and more importantly you know what you don't want. Now, that you have a plan, your follies accepted, your insecurities are on a healthy diet- you lack the prospect of the suitable boy. 

It's all speed-dating from here. 

An affliction we are all too familiar with - Finding the Right Man at the wrong time- where you keep thinking back to a time when you had it or Him, but you wouldn't settle. 

Nothing has transpired between then and NOW- I still don't exactly regret the choices I have made; could I have been more foresighted about them? Yes. But that's the fun about life-  all of our experiences  and each more different than  the other. 

In the interim I have come to learn that love is not a formula ; it's not about things I like, things I don't like. It is layered, inexplicable and more mirrors than windows. Meaning, what we seek out of Love, or what Love means to each one of us is not the same- it invariably reflects what we need the most, and everything about our life until then. If it is anything; Love is not Simple. It can be needy, or it can be life-affirming, it can be caring, it can be honest, it can be challenging, it can be a reassurance, it can be many things and it can still be nothing. 

Through the years - Speaking strictly as a sapiosexual, I get  drawn to conversations like moths to light. I have come to learn that for me Love would be a friend, who I can share silence with and rant rubbish when I am upset- and HE would still get what I am saying. Bonus would be - A respect for individuality and a deep-rooted understanding of choices; not just mine, but everyone's. In that aspect, I guess my wait may just have to be a little longer than the rest, or alternatively, I may never find what I am looking for. Who Knows? All I know is that I am happy to fill my life with etcetras in the meanwhile and make a colorful collage, if I must.  

Yes, with the Spectacularly Ordinary, my Inner Goddess may not be so happy. But she can still learn to Jive with her discontentment and bray discordant tunes to Ed Sheeran's Thinking Out Loud. Yes, Ed, Give Me Love! 
And see you soon(preferably with a flute glass holding Mimosa or Bellini)  ??

 #Meh

                             

Dear Michael

Note: I was asked to write a letter for a dear friend's baby, for him to read on his eighteenth birthday. At the time I was thrilled and thought how wonderful it would be. But when it actually came down to writing it, I was clueless and nothing seemed good enough. What could I possibly say to a boy eighteen years from now?! Phew! No pressure! 
In any case, I have penned some food for thought. And doubting very much if he will ever appreciate this, I have succumbed and I am putting a mail in the post. While the letter finds its way to his current home in Canada, awaiting its mysterious fate, I thought I'd share some part here (before, I bite my tongue)! 

Dear Michael,

As of today, you would be a solid 18 years of age (and  a decade younger than I am, as I write you this letter). 

It would be foolish to assume that I know much about life,  but as I commandeer over two decades of wisdom, I will attempt to share with you what I have learnt so far.  You would hopefully let me know how I have done? 

When I was 18, I was a starry-eyed kid with a big white hope. As far as I was concerned, there were so many possibilities.

I have come a long way since, but being where I am today, has its perks. And while being adult comes with its fair share of baggage,  yet Life never ceases to amaze me. All the world around us. That's where I still feel that estranged connection with my 18-years old self. 

Upon this thought, here's what I wish for you- that you are able to carry your past as you live your current and move toward the future, with joy and grace.  I assure you, it is a beautiful kaleidoscope of things. 

Don't ever lose that stubbornness- Rebel, explore, be curious. And no matter the nervousness, stay stubborn to learn  and to be yourself. 

Dream- If you haven't one already, find one. It's the most wonderful thing. It's crucial you have one - for it will steer your life . Years from now, when you are unhappy with your job and career, you will hear of your mates doing wonderful things and you will look back and ask yourself where did you go wrong. Essentially, it was just a matter of a dream they had, and you din't. And if one doesn't work, it's time to go find another one! 

Be Brave- It's a big bad world and it's not easy being yourself. But try. You will be clueless, your friends and peers will intimidate you, you will doubt yourself, but hold courage. Always.

Love honestly - Love, big or small, but love honestly. Don't pretend if you're not in love. And don't be scared if you are. As long as your heart knows it, and you are honest with your heart, people will understand. After that if people are disappointed or if they reject you- well it's their doing, and not yours. 

Empathise- Try to lift yourself above commiseration. Try to understand and enable. Respect your parents, respect women, know the lesser fortunate. When you are crying about not being able to buy a ticket to a concert you'd like to go to, remind yourself that there are children who do not know what music is. And in realising so, if you are also able to help them in any way, there is nothing more rewarding.

Don't hesitate- There will always be expectations. And you will be obliged to live up to them, but try to remember that eventually, everything finds a balance. And while it takes a lot of patience, which you will develop over time (hopefully) but every person has a perspective- and you may not necessarily get it or understand it. But just because, you don't, doesn't mean that they are wrong. You are just different. Don't hesitate to express your views, while accepting others' .

Don't regret - If there is something I have lived by, is that you should not regret. The ugly also has its charm- it makes us stronger and scars remind us of where we've been and where we'd like to go. Life is a sum total of all your experiences, and while each one comes with its share of pain and joy- it makes up your life and it makes of all of who you are. You will learn that things happened to you at a time, because you were meant to learn something out of it. 

Make memories- Little ones. Lot's of them! This big, bad, mad, crazy, wonderful, confusing, beautiful thing called life!, is just one shot you get and make it worth the while. Seize the day, my friend.

Skeptics may say, Life is never the literature you imagined, but your story is your own. Don't be afraid to imagine it as you go along. Make it a Ferris-wheel kind of ride. Roller coasters are so over-rated! 

Oh, and it would be well to advise that the best armor there is- is a sense of humour! 

Love always, you blessed child,

Auntie Aishwarya 

I Don't know about U, but this works for me!!

LETTERS TO BUBBA- Final Epistle

...In the battle between Love versus Ambition, either is doomed to erode and fade. One cannot thrive in the presence of the other; fate only favors the one that is more persistent. My father keeps telling me, "You can't have the cake as well as eat it" and I find that fitting in this case.

Some may say that it is the choices that we make, and in the end, it all works out. Perhaps. But whose side of the story are we telling? 

I for one, strongly believe, that we take refuge in anything and anyone, that is comforting. All our actions, likes, dislikes and fear is the consequence of this idea of comfort. Motivated by reciprocation, love persists. Failed by disappointments, love gives way to grey; from hereon, there are two paths- one of doubt, and one of greatness. For its only in misery, that a revolution is born. 

But, it's not wise to suggest that all of us were born of love, good or bad. Some of us are made of ambition - I think it is a variation of love-  a love for self-awareness (but for convenience of reference, we shall call it ambition). It's also the conqueror. And in all sense of honesty, it is also easier. Love, on the contrary, is truly for the resilient. 

Our mortal nemesis is not so much death...as much as it is the fear of the unknown. We are deeply vested in the anticipation of the future, tormented with the ceaseless possibilities ( or lack thereof) and the seeming rhetoric - how will our stories be told? 

Yes, if you ask me, I don't think we fear dying. We fear not being remembered. That, according to me, is truly ceasing to exist.

And as in all times of conflict, we are known to do, we will turn to believe in the representation of the Beyond, and for convenience I call it God. God, is my answer to all things inexplicable; a billion questions, which perhaps our race was never meant to ask. Yet we are here. Living. Evolving. And I need to know. 

Enter Science. Science has very reassuringly resolved the origin of species, yet, it is, like every other definite, a didactic.

Removed from all knowing-ness, simply put, we all want to be in memories, in books, in arts, in literature, in history- in mourning , in wonderment or in obscurity. 

I now, therefore, wonder, is ambition so different from love? Or do they harness a placebo effect for each other? 

I don't know which is truer; we choose the one we love, or love chooses us. But in defying to do so, or being refused the choice itself, ambition is comfort for now. 

For while Love eludes me, my person functions with ambition better. Open yourself to love, people say. I defer to add; open yourself to love 'of any kind'. 

Because, while the manifestation is different, the objective remains one and the same- to be forgotten Not . And as singularity is nature's favoured offspring, one will need to perish for the other to succeed. 

Forgive me Bubba, for it is the only kind of love I know. And that someday, I hope, you will understand and we will both, each,  find what we are looking for. 

" ...That you are here—that life exists, and identity; 

That the powerful play goes on, and you will contribute a verse.” 

- Walt Whitman, Leaves of Grass

And until then,  the heart will burn... 

Remembered always,

A!