Sometimes in life, there are paths that lead away from our heart. We follow that path and walk through the serenity and embrace the anonymity of the new path. We walk along that path in the hope of finding something. That something is not always quantitative. But, first, why choose the new path? Because, good old same road is boring and new path promises more. And despite everything life taught us, we still believe that promise.
As we walk along that new path, we ponder once in a while, to go back. Of course, that is only natural, given that, everything new has a sense of risk and the comfort of the known walls is better than the luxury of the unknown. Yet, we persevere, until we hit a road block. As it happens in life, every path will have a stumble and a road block. Just to make the journey interesting.
Now, here comes the tricky path. How to move forward from that road block? It seems so easy to turn back and walk into the comfort zone. Yet, few brave venture to cross the road block. Few return, never to explore a new path again. But, the brave, who move forward, trigger the entire process again. Choose – stumble – forward or backward. But, did anyone ever wonder, why the process? Why choose? Why stumble? Why move forward or backward? Of course, the logical question to ask would be, why to stay?
More often than not, I keep asking this question to myself. I still do not have an answer.
But, life – It doesn’t stop. Not when there are questions nor when there are answers.
When life seems meaningless, it does not stop.
When life seems blissful, it does not stop.
When life seems full of life, it does not stop.
When life seems a drag, it does not stop.
When life seems chaotic, it does not stop.
When life seems to be filled with passion, it does not stop.
When life seems heartless, it does not stop.
When life seems to be filled with love, it does not stop.
When life seems loveless, it does not stop.
And the list goes on, and life still does not stop.
But why, why do I want it to stop, just for a second and let me catch up with it? Why does it want me to huff and puff and totter behind it, as it bosses me around? It is supposed to be my life, ain’t it? When did it suddenly cease being my own? Did it slip away, from my hands, just like the quick sand that slips through the fingers, when we hold it too tight? Should I scramble to collect it into my hands again? This time, will it stay?
“Of course not, you idiot! Life goes on!! Don’t you get it?” (says my alter ego. Life- here is a request, please take her along with you, the next time you wish to leave me behind!)
