LIFE - COLORES INFINITUM (14)
Like many other days of his life, thoughts again came to him, not questioning but to stay with him in his intimate moments. There happened to be a time when he would feel depressed the way he had been seen by the life in his recent past. He would be haunted by those thoughts.
Not anymore. But it is not any reconciliation sort of deal with life or its existential beliefs and disbeliefs. He never believed in making deals. Going srtraight was all that he had learnt.
He had always believed in his existence. Yes, he had deviated but there was no one else to blame but him. But now he doesn’t see any reason to blame his ‘self’ for that deviation. He now believes in his existence even more deeply.
But for it, he had to wage a battle deep within, something that made him look at the brighter side of the things he was totally unaware of in life, something that gave him an experience set of events and relations he had never thought of taking even a dip in.
Yes, it was not a reconciliation but a recognition to the realization of his own views of life and whether he could accommodate the same with this thinking nature. Yes, the journey back within had made him see the points of his mistakes and prepared to appreciate and learn from them.
Thoughts, their rush, they come to him, and he always finds moments for them, irrespective of the interrogative ‘Ws’. He is still not sure of the certainty on how he saw the light from those haunting memories but he looks well settled now with the echo of the thoughts of those memories that come so often to sit with him.
If it was an unbearable pain yesterday, it is still painful today, but the sides have changed. Now this pain soothes him while that pain was mercilessly treading.
This all owes to his belief in himself that he has been able to win back. He knows he was always seen as a weaker form of being, someone who embodied more wrong than right or possibly wrongs only, someone who was not was his words were, and to make things worse for him, he came to feel all those about him.
But there was something left in him, something that let him not to deviate from the basic texture that he had weaved for him in the very beginning.
He might not have known anything then but he knew he was on a journey where he had to be committed and honest, not for others, but for his own self. Yes, he never knew the ways of that life, but equally aware he was of his own ways of life even when the gloom was killing him. That is how he could fight and win back, that element of his sense of trust in him, that, though suppressed, kept on calling him.
And a day came, when he listened to it again.
©/IPR: Santosh Chaubey - http://severallyalone.blogspot.com/
