At crossroads again, a fall; yet another one but not as bad as I would have liked it to be, that’s another issue to add on to the misery that so far seemed nonexistent. The existence of someone the heart pines for, but that’s okay. Life goes on, doesn’t it? Yes, it does, but the space remains vacant, in the heart and in between those fingers which never got to hold on to something. The mess lying scattered all around, not just a mess, the remains of a saga deprived of an end; a meaningful one. But, that’s what I wanted it to be, a beautiful thing unfolding into nothing and now that nothingness is beautiful too. Holding on to it will be a task for sure, I will see it to; until the end though.
I found light; I had in fact, the length of the tunnel didn’t seem like a bother then, the mind that had given up, the soul that had grown tired, then; had started sowing seeds of renewal, the mind was rejuvenating and there seemed a purpose at the end of it. Mirage it was, or was it not? It’s hard to figure out, as I set out again, tired and weary, for travelling without anything in mind is better than not having travelled at all. A calling beckons, a ray of hope perhaps, it’s all in the mind they say, as I see a silver lining. This too shall pass, this won’t forever be. Who cares? For I hadn’t, I never have.
Reading into too much and reading too much has been something I was plagued by always, over thinking has been something intrinsic and co-relating life events with something fictional as found in books has been a trait. So, this was bound to be; no infatuation, no law of attraction held good as I fell for something that seemed as good as the stuff found in books. As if, Dickens had plotted for the stars to cross, ‘Estella’ was in sight and Pip didn’t mind giving it all away. But, life is real; life is earnest, serious business it is and it has just begun.
I have been a sucker for tragedies, no matter how happy the endings are, something tragic is always camouflaged and passed on as just another occurring, and that’s worth it all in the end. But, no; there’s something about an ending that all good endings have: they end, not a tragedy though, it manifests into something more beautiful, and something tragic can be a source of an unending zeal to carry on. The zeal to hang on, the zeal to live on and the zeal to long for. Romancing this longing within is a bliss, not bound by selfish desires or worldly virtues of give and take.
The laws of the physical world don’t hold any good, as metaphysics takes over; time, space and distance, formless selves connected without being connected at all. The magic of holding on and letting go, coupled with a sweet little pang does keep things alive, like some sedation that kicks in to assure that there’s a calm in the chaos. Between having and not having someone, the mind chooses the middle path as the heart concedes too: “‘Tis better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all.”
Life goes on, and so does longing, longing doesn’t require to be mutual or reciprocated at all, rather it aids in sharpening the desire to hold on. To hold on to that spark that lit the fire in the first place; and warmed the soul that that had turned cold. To give it all up like Pip sans “The Great Expectations”, for there remains the bottom-line: Once for all; I knew to my sorrow, often and often, if not always, that I loved her against reason, against promise, against peace, against hope, against happiness, against all discouragement that could be. Once for all; I loved her none the less because I knew it, and it had no more influence in restraining me, than if I had devoutly believed her to be human perfection.
** Ending lines from The Great Expectations by Charles Dickens – Chapter 29
abhishek purkayastha 