Shadows of thoughts

Pleasant and pointless chatter is what it was turning out to be. Chatter with no consequence, words spoken for the moment alone...like all that mattered was the minute. Not what happened after that, or what had happened before that. A feeling like any time before that moment never existed, and any time after that moment was meant to remain frozen and unmovable, so that the moment wasn't lost in time. There it was, a feeling of togetherness that hadn't been felt in a very long time. The happiness of seeing what was being seen...like finally fulfilling an escaping agenda. They should have been lost in the din, should have been unable to hear each other, should have been unable to enjoy the company... yet, it seemed like the din was a world away from where they sat, even though they were in the middle of it. The over-rated din.The smiles and talk showed that they could hear what was being said perfectly, and understanding it seemed like the most obvious thing.

A while later, 4 shadows lay still on the sand. The shadows cast by the street lamp...yellow light. The owners of the shadows sat on the parapet wall, half talking, half staring at the starless sky, half listening to the breeze...and perhaps, fully thankful for the moment. It was in those few minutes that the reality of life itself seemed to dawn upon each one of them...there were times before, when each of them thought different things about life, about reality. But this experience seemed new...seemed fresh...seemed true. And the pleasant chatter that was enjoyed in the middle of the din suddenly seemed to disappear in the quietness of the night...like chatter and noise called for noise, but silence demanded silence...like the breeze was craving attention, and the clouds pleaded an audience for their slow dance...like the waves were trying hard to be heard at the distance and the sands weren't satisfied with being still and ignored. A little girl walked on the sand...stamping on every one of the 4 shadows on the sand, and then paused slightly to take a look at the 4 long shapes. Perhaps it amused her, but it wasn't good enough to take her attention away from her sand bucket. She walked on...leaving tiny footprints in the sand...footprints that stayed for hardly a second before the sands filled in the space, as if in anger of their even-ness being mutilated.

The words that were spoken, or heard were never to be forgotten. The very words seemed to give them a new purpose to their lives. It made them thankful for the years that breezed past, with tests and obstacles that seemed meagre compared to other things in the world. One felt blessed and in an inexplicable way, guilty, for leading the life that had been led so far. Another may have felt a mixture of pride and fear. The 3rd, seemed to have felt a resgined feeling with a tinge of pride that wouldn't be displayed... Sometimes, talking about small instances makes one realise the significance of the big picture. Part scary, part depressing, part challenging...all encountered with part hesitation...part courage. At the end of it all, when you know you can't achieve everything in a day, when you know things happen for a reason, when you feel like sometimes, you just have to believe in the existence of destiny, you pray. For there doesn't seem any other way to comfort one's feeling of worthlessness... insignificance... small-ness. But again you think... everything has its place and time. And you live on...do the little you can... and hope that someday, you too, will have a story to tell, and that story... will hit someone hard. Someday....

Yours "Every face has a story. every man has a destiny"ly
Signing off....