I wrote this many days back…

Life is so strange sometimes. People say do what you feel like. Fairy tales and all the lessons from our childhood teach us to do what is right. But sometimes life cannot be simplified down to rules and “right” and “wrong”. A point of time comes that the right thing to do causes more pain and hurt than the wrong thing and you can never be sure whether it is the right thing or not. I guess that is the time when we realise we have grown up.

Life is so similar to a game of chess. One move among thousands of moves changes it into something completely new, never before explored. And you are left all alone to take your decisions and make new strategies. Only if winning and losing could be defined so easily in life. What are the set of rules? Who defines them? You play with your own rules. Who is the opponent? What do we play for?

Sometimes one thing gives warmth to your heart. It feels so beautiful so natural to let yourself drown in that warmth. You bathe in its sunshine, it is the only thing missing in your life, the miracle and you feel complete, happy. Then even before you realize you are fighting, with the world, with yourself just to make it stay. Is that wrong? To want something to last forever? Then the next moment you are licking your wounds, thinking how stupid you were not to realize how impractical everything was. You realize it was “wrong”. So which one is right? Before the impractical you or now these “practical” rules? If everyone defines their own set of rules who judges which one is practical? Assuming we are happy or sad or right or wrong by our own feelings, how do you differentiate the “impracticality” from the “practical” when the impractical feelings were also felt so much, maybe even more than the practical ones?  Which is real then? This doesn’t make any sense does it? Does life?

Days pass by culminating into months. The mind seeks the impractical, the stupid thing. Taking morsels of the present it builds its own web combining the present, past and the future. Lost in the thick sticky web I can’t differentiate the present any more. The whirlwind of the impractical and real, the right and the wrong blinds me. The mind slowly approaches like a giant spider playing with its prey. I give in.

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