The Symphony

Visiting an old memory is like trying to pick a piece of broken mirror from the floor... the reflection is never perfect and there is always a chance of cutting your hand while you are at it…

Memories are over rated. With time, the brain colludes them with figments of imagination and spices them up to suit one’s morals and adjusts the moving pieces for a convenient navigation. Eventually the colors fade away and the high-definition reality of today becomes a jaded sepia print with blurry faces, torn corners and broken frames.

Earlier, I believed in making lists but then I realized that as your years add up, the lists get shorter. You eventually learn that you need fewer distractions and lesser strings to hold you down. What most people fail to realize is that they need a lighter load of memories too. We are constantly piling on events from days, pictures, souveniers and knick knacks from our daily lives and making our baggage heavy. It may perhaps be a better idea to let go of things, pass on the articles that have lost their connection to your soul and give away while you are still strong to bear the loss.

I find myself at crossroads, waiting for a signal from heavens to help me pick my direction but I have been unwilling to move at all at the same time. For me, the destination was never important and I took pride and revelled in my journey. I celebrated little victories, wassailed trivial milestones and regaled my friends and foes heartily and alike. But now, I feel seasick at this voyage and want this to end as soon as possible. It is perhaps still not about the destination but an uneasy eagerness to see the light at the end of this tunnel.

I have always had a sense of rhythm and knew my music but I am no longer enthused by it. The silence is the only comforting symphony I long for. I will take a break now and use the snow for a blanket.

The seat by the frozen lake will be empty for a while – till of course someone else comes in and fills in the void that I leave.