Thoda sa roomani ho jayein

Life is really funny. It was yesterday, I was frustrated with myself for I was in some dilemma and today I get plenty in my head. I think the funny part resides in me rather than the life. The weather is so 'roomani' and the examinations not millions of years away, I feel its the right time to write. Creativity shoots up, specially in my case, when the creative room is cramped for space and time. I call it the squeezed creativity. Under similar circumstances, love also shoots up. Beautiful weather, chilled breeze and a arousing shiver in the body-all of them sum up to just one point and love definitely is that point.

The great romantics from the history of classical english literature have said that love knows no boundaries, no limits, no modus operandi to achieve in this field is considered wrong and why would it be so? As it is, there is so less of love left these days, anyone pursuing the cause of love has to be looked upon as a messiah for emotional upheaval. Experts say that people go crazy in the quest of love. I say they just become what they are. For the good actors, indeed, love is a hypothetical concept. But again, there are rivers which change courses, there are mountains which lose heights and there are plots of lands which get submerged in the waters. After one of the floods they disappear only to resurface next summers. Some pieces never come back. Some come back so different from what they were before going, we fail to recognize them. The farmers are so apprehensive of those lands, they don't set a foot on it. They don't even give these pieces a chance to bear the suffering at the hands of the plow for they truly miss the pleasure in the pain part of the entire sequence. The lands lay barren, cracking, the cracks widening with time and the hopes fading. They know how hard it becomes to wait when you wait against no hope, no expectations. They get impatient, sometimes paranoid. They are so unsure of their own time. There are apprehensions, anxieties of different kinds. They fear the rains for the rains would bring the floods. They fear the floods for they will be lost again for no fault of theirs and come back with that label on them. The farmer might have left by then or could have changed professions or could have done something which would never bring them together again. The mind plays dirty little games. They break resolves, they test character but for all practical purposes, the lands don't have much time, either to convince or to survive. The watery eyes, the increasingly upbeat vein on the temple, the ever drying lips, the sweaty palms, the shaky knees say it all in one go, only if someone listens or even bothers to.

Love is hard, never futile. Farmers...farm some..don't bother if it grows or not...Read the GEETA....ends are not always what you seek in life....even a painstaking process has honey like pleasure....