There’s a story in every curve of a painting.
I knew this painter a long time back,
He had a very peculiar look about him,
He used to look at things in a way that was paradoxical to the outlook of the world around him.
On this particular day, he was painting something very different. It looked like our world but of a time long back.
That had gotten me thinking; I wondered what he thought about the world when it was first created.
I had asked him so, he never responded.
I wondered on my own what the world looked like at the beginning?
What did the first men think about it?
Did they marvel at its wonderfulness, or were they horrified by its grandeur?
Did these men even have the power of thinking?
They must have had a sense of their surroundings if nothing else, and if nothing else, they would have known the truth of life and the response of death.
This line of thoughts led me nowhere, and I digressed to begin living thereupon.
Alas, there was a moment when I was wandering around wondering, a moment while living when everything turned for me.
It wasn’t the moment I was waiting for; I didn’t know that I wouldn’t care about anything else after it, I didn’t know that there would not be a concept of me after it.
But it is what it is, and it is life itself.
Life itself is what leads us to misdirection, what takes us onto the right path, and then the maze is on, and the answer to it just eludes away.
I craved a happy life, a wonderful life – desperately wanted it, desperately needed it.
Still, I am afraid that I was birthed only for the tragedy, a tragedy that follows me, a tragedy that changed me.
I really don’t know if I can withstand another blow like it ever again without completely crushing everything in my psyche.
I am moving forward; what choice do I have? I am going to try to live and get years out of this decrepit old body.
Some of us are simple men, some of us are heroes, some of us villains too, some of us are good, and some of us are just evil.
Some of us are like the painter who knew everything but didn’t answer, some of us are like those first men who knew nothing but the concept of death and life, and some of us only live for moments till they change us forever and those moments do indeed never stop coming.
I am aware that no one knows the future; I am aware that nobody knows where our story will unfold next.
The answer to life is found in the most strangest of places, in the oddest of moments, a moment so insignificant that nobody even remembers noting it down.
A man sitting on a bench amongst tens of others seeing someone and doing nothing but wait until he dared to ask something, and that was the moment when everything changed for the better, there were moments before, and there were moments after but none so insignificant that completely changed our world, my world.
Let me just say it again, it is what it is, and it is life itself.
By: Anant Walia
