That place called home

A little more than three years away from home, and all I need is home.  It’s not like I can’t stay away from home for too long, but the futility of it all, and yet the necessity of it all, renders me answerless. What is that huge necessity that makes moving out of your home so essential, that you don’t have to think twice before accepting a job offer that requires you to be thousands of miles away from home? What is that unseen futility that tells you, after years of labour you have put into your workplace, that all this time you have been away from home, supposedly exploring the world and in turn exploring yourself, you have actually not been your real self? You have not been with yourself. You have just been: been busy, been working, been tired, and been anything but living life.

And yet, how many of us can ever imagine spending our entire life at home? There is this huge world to look forward to. There are new people to meet. There are new milestones to achieve. And any restriction, such as the one that needs you to be close to home, will just deter your success. And anyway, life is about moving on. It’s about finding new things in new places.

However, deep inside lingers a long-nurtured dream. A dream in which I am with the people I love the most. Doing things I love the most. I am at home - a place where no worries reside, where giggles light the mornings, and lullabies welcome the nights. There is no entrance into this place, nor does there exist an exit. As far as the eye can see, there are just butterflies dancing in the little gardens that encircle this place, while bright sunlight dawns upon the unkempt grass on a sweet January morning. There are no things to do, no deadlines, no ambitions, no desires; just the feeling of fulfillment, of nothingness. And as the sun sets, and the day grows cold, there is a little bonfire to warm me up.. There is warmth enough.. There is warmth enough..

And the dream lingers on.

But sooner or later, the butterfly will fly away. And as it spreads its beautiful wings, no matter how dangerous and unforgiving  the world is, the butterfly will simply fly away, probably not even look back once, madly engrossed in its new achievement, looking forward to a new world, where it hopes to find its place one day.

Jlt!

// Hume tumse pyaar kitna, yeh hum nahi jaante..

Magar jee nahi sakte tumhare bina…. //

There are times when I go on listening to the same playlist again and again for weeks. This time it’s the Old Hindi Classics playlist on my iPod that’s been playing iteratively for quite some time. As I sit here listening to this old classic, stupid thoughts and interpretations swarm my mind.

I guess the singer is talking about true love. How it’s impossible to live without the beloved! And isn’t that what most of us keep telling each other, our loved ones that is. Not just telling, but also believing so in our sub-conscious mind. A belief that simply rejects the idea of life without a particular person or a specific environment or something of that effect.

The irony is this: Our beliefs, interpretations and plans seldom coincide with the truths of life. No matter how much emotionally or socially attached we might be to any person living, death is what makes all the difference. In that manner, death is more of an eye-opener, for the people who are left behind, destined to live on, for better or for worse. When death arrives, it sweeps away with itself just the person, and no matter how much we request, plead, cry, it won’t act otherwise. It won’t leave that person. It won’t take you either. It just does what it does. It kills. It liberates.

I hope it hasn’t happened with you. But that’s what happens with most of the people. Loved ones die. You pray madly, frantically to die with them. Life seems to be meaningless. Light seems to be nowhere. For days, you curse your own existence. And then time does the trick. It gives you strength. It gives you life. It elucidates you. It introduces you to the truth. And the truth is harsh.

The truth is that nobody dies with the dead. Nobody WANTS to die with the dead. It is just the moment of death, its enormity, its awe, that we begin to feel that all we wish to do is to die with the dead. There is hope of converging with the lost. At that moment, love becomes greater than fear. But that is just a moment.

The moment passes by, and we come face-to-face with the truth. Life goes on. And no matter what, it goes on and on and on. We get busy, there are new people to meet, new milestones to achieve, new love to find. There are new attachments to be made, new missions to be accomplished, new races to run. And then one fine day, death strikes again. Life comes a full circle. And the circle never stops. Probably that is the beauty of life. Or is it the ugliness?