These days, I see, at times, that this piece of a life turns into
nothing more than a dilemmatic piece. It seems to be no more true than
a little big piece of a dilemma itself. A dilemma which etches away
the little piece of one’s soul from the wholeness of their skin. A
dilemma which seeks whether the life they live can even be called a
living or it is something which is only suffering – bit by bit –
wretchedly. And, life seems seems to be no stronger than this little
big dilemma.
And now do I measure life, which looks like nothing but a gaudy
bouquet of uncanny events, arranged in a mysterious fashion, all of
which come into existence – turning out of nowhere. And at various
points of time, I take life to mean quite differently, yet something
more variegated thenceforth; and dilemma always sits there, on the
window facing the east direction, like the sun which never has had the
slightest obligation to sink in its own corner of the universe. So,
there’s always that light, that ray of ever-undisguisable psychic
battle, which if begins inside, it knows to end nowhere else – but
only into me again; that light, moreover, ain’t at all relating to
hope – in one way or the other – rather does it keep the slightest
pieces of hope apart. It does no mercy on me, nor on the pain that’s
yet to come, nor at all on the bits of pleasure. That light sees to it
that no pleasure does reach, and no pain parts. Oh, merciless is that
light! So dark and so demonic that one can never ask for it, but only
abhor this darkness to the bitterest extent.

o_life.jpg
But then, life also keeps up with us ever; being there a recollection
of ever-sustaining bittersweet memories. And ever does there stand the
dilemma – never fading, never lagging behind, never losing way, rather
always there, chasing and catching up every now and then as ever does
the moon, at night, no matter wherever you go.
And then, there’s breath ever – never ceasing, never leaving the
littlest blows; rather this breath keeps on and continues straying
ahead and forward, thus, compelling us to stay. Compelling us to fill
those lungs with every last pinch of it. Compelling us to hold on to
the last bits of it till ever, and ever after.
After all, compelling us to live to that dilemma. And compelling us to
support that living dilemma to help us live; to make us live for ever,
and ever after.

Jayant Kashyap

[Jan 07, 2017 – Jan 12, 2017]

  • PS: [dated Aug 18, 2016]
    “I wish I was really more lonely than I now feel like, for it would
    have helped me more. At the least, it would have helped me overcome
    this crude feeling more…”
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