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Brush Strokes

Every one of us is a painter. Some of us can paint many faces but all of us can definitely paint at least one picture. All of us can most certainly paint one picture. This one picture is of someone stuck in our hearts. Stuck for life. Haven’t all of us been through this moment where we feel life would be perfect if it was with that person? Some of us achieve living a life with them while some of us are left with the picture.

God has a plan for all of us, so it is said. While some get what they deserve and some get something equivalent to what they deserve. What if equivalent to what we deserve is not what we want, what we deserve? Even God can’t answer this question.

Life indeed is a mockery of many things where simple pursuits require ample efforts and sometimes yield no results. In life I painted too. A picture so beautiful and stuck to it. I stuck so much to it that I got lost in it. I believed in it and forgot that the world outside existed. The seemingly endless joys it bestowed were so wonderful that it became my comfort zone. Later came the hardship of getting out of the picture fighting against reality and starting to believe that I put my trust into something elusive. But every now and then I do go back to my ‘lost paradise’. I stare at my picture and relive the world which wasn’t to be. I realized something. I could not fight it. It was a part of me. It was a haven I had accepted to live with. It was some space where I had quenched my thirst from the pool of purity of feelings, love and belonging. Now I am not going to fight it any more. I am going to accept it for what it is and for what it is not. Defying it is denying life, denying hope and denying the essence of human life that separates from lower beings, the sense and the feelings. I love my picture the only one that I have ever painted and I swear my unswerving loyalty to it.

Comments

Unknown said…
"I was never one to patiently pick up broken fragments and glue them together again and tell myself that the mended whole was as good as new. What is broken is broken -- and I'd rather remember it as it was at its best than mend it and see the broken places as long as I lived."
-Margaret Mitchell
April 5, 2009 at 11:39 AM
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