When I see and observe the
sky from the holes of my dilapidated blanket, I often find the sky so
disturbed and dark. Stars have lost the glitter. Now the night is not a
peaceful journey, it is as depressing as the time you spend in the
waiting room, waiting for you turn to come.
In my childhood, I used to throw my bag and rush in the kitchen to see what my mother is cooking. The aroma of sizzling food was deliciously suffocating. The whistle of cooker was audibly interrupting but mind and hearts were innocent enough to accept the irritation. Soul of reactions was always covered behind the facial expression. The mind was mature enough to understand that such interruption is not permanent. But now that maturity is a part of history. Those broken toys were not so attractive but my mature mind in such an immature age used to find them entertaining and jolly. I used to read the pain and tiredness in my mother’s eyes that innocently I tried and cook and made my mother laugh by spoiling the floor and myself.
That maturity is missing, that understanding is missing. May be my legs are in the mud of self-created responsibilities and professional environment. Now the energy is missing. The kitchen used to be empty. I used to listen to my mom from my room, singing chants while cooking. Today, I could listen the howls of silence. No sizzling food in the pan, no whistles I could find. I want and wish those innocent irritating things back in my life.
How many times in a day, we revisit our past. How many of you have many such great memories that brings a pinch of sadness which leave many if… and then... behind. How funny is that: - our mind is a prankster! It behaves like a child when you are expected to behave like a man and vice-versa when environment is lighter. The reactions were temporary and short but now they have become short-tempered. Words have become so stubborn that we often say “what to say! I don’t have words”. I started my life playing with toys made of plastic and look what time has done with me! I am become a plastic soul. I used to carry a plastic smile, I used to exchange a plastic gesture. No more plastic things to deal with but people find me plastic while dealing with me.
When I was a boy, I used to stand tall as far as my dreams were concerned. An old blanket used to make me super-man. Two sticks and a string used to make me a warrior of Ramayana Time. A small revolver during Diwali celebrations has always gifted me all power to beat thieves of the world. Vision was small, restrictions were there but dreams and imaginations were boundary less. But now maturity has narrowed down my vision, my imaginations. Comparison has replaced the uniqueness of individual perspective towards same thing. May be that is why they call it “MATURITY (Match – your –Ability).
As we have become plastic, we have stopped listening to the real meaning of words and we always mis-interpret that now history is ‘his-story’ for us, tomorrow has become ‘to-borrow’ and time has become ‘tie-me’ and then we complain that we are not free ! And above all life has become ‘lie-if’. So my dear friend, Think till you have ‘The-ink’.
.
~Maulik Trivedi
In my childhood, I used to throw my bag and rush in the kitchen to see what my mother is cooking. The aroma of sizzling food was deliciously suffocating. The whistle of cooker was audibly interrupting but mind and hearts were innocent enough to accept the irritation. Soul of reactions was always covered behind the facial expression. The mind was mature enough to understand that such interruption is not permanent. But now that maturity is a part of history. Those broken toys were not so attractive but my mature mind in such an immature age used to find them entertaining and jolly. I used to read the pain and tiredness in my mother’s eyes that innocently I tried and cook and made my mother laugh by spoiling the floor and myself.
That maturity is missing, that understanding is missing. May be my legs are in the mud of self-created responsibilities and professional environment. Now the energy is missing. The kitchen used to be empty. I used to listen to my mom from my room, singing chants while cooking. Today, I could listen the howls of silence. No sizzling food in the pan, no whistles I could find. I want and wish those innocent irritating things back in my life.
How many times in a day, we revisit our past. How many of you have many such great memories that brings a pinch of sadness which leave many if… and then... behind. How funny is that: - our mind is a prankster! It behaves like a child when you are expected to behave like a man and vice-versa when environment is lighter. The reactions were temporary and short but now they have become short-tempered. Words have become so stubborn that we often say “what to say! I don’t have words”. I started my life playing with toys made of plastic and look what time has done with me! I am become a plastic soul. I used to carry a plastic smile, I used to exchange a plastic gesture. No more plastic things to deal with but people find me plastic while dealing with me.
When I was a boy, I used to stand tall as far as my dreams were concerned. An old blanket used to make me super-man. Two sticks and a string used to make me a warrior of Ramayana Time. A small revolver during Diwali celebrations has always gifted me all power to beat thieves of the world. Vision was small, restrictions were there but dreams and imaginations were boundary less. But now maturity has narrowed down my vision, my imaginations. Comparison has replaced the uniqueness of individual perspective towards same thing. May be that is why they call it “MATURITY (Match – your –Ability).
As we have become plastic, we have stopped listening to the real meaning of words and we always mis-interpret that now history is ‘his-story’ for us, tomorrow has become ‘to-borrow’ and time has become ‘tie-me’ and then we complain that we are not free ! And above all life has become ‘lie-if’. So my dear friend, Think till you have ‘The-ink’.
.
~Maulik Trivedi
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