Tuesday, July 27, 2010

Inner being.

She looks around her. Everyone conceals themselves in their own lives; submerged in thought or deep in discussion and almost always, both. It is ironic how everyone isn’t just a single piece of existence. A girl in her class happened to mention the presence of “fragmented lives”. She begun to marinate this thought and she realized how she is not a single, unified piece. However, does one have the courage, to explore these fragments of ourselves? Or do they remain unearthed, till we become one with this world. It tempts her to further question if people do believe in such an existence. One where, all the pieces are stitched neatly together, in a unique form, that is exclusive to just that being. Probably the stitches differ; in the sense, every one of us is put through tests in this life. We all don’t, however, learn the lessons in the same way or in a similar span of time. This creates a difference in the core of each person. Our contents are approximately alike, but the composition varies. This makes understanding and relating to others very tedious. It takes patience, time, understanding and compassion. Accepting ourselves is a task in itself, expecting others to do so is asking for too much, she thought. Being in someone else’s shoes, hence, is close to impossible. Bringing about the concept of the troubles involved in the co existence of two beings. However, is it genuinely so difficult to imagine another explanation to every action? Is it too much to try, just try, to perceive another point of view?
She focuses on the fights around, the screams and shouts of her fellow ones. Her eyes stop short, when they narrow in on a couple that seem in harmony. She can’t help but stare. Her eyes blink in disbelief as she witnesses laughter, smiles, joy and even love. She walks past them smiling at her reinforced faith in some traces of goodness. She then goes back to her thoughts of our fragmented existence. Only to realise maybe, her life clicks with ones that she mirrors. Her patches match with those that have seen what she has. Her ideas evolve around those that fine tune them for her. She “gets along” with ones whose inner most fragments are most similar to her. The others she strives to understand and along that windy path she struggles to not forget the essence of herself. As she learns, unlearns and relearns all the lessons this life has to teach her, she simply accepts that it all will help in holding herself more together, a tighter and stronger inner being. Hopefully through the tests of time, she will be lesser prone to falling apart and a more stable individual.

Friday, July 23, 2010

Run on..

I bend into my stance, preparing psychologically and physically in the process, for my run. As the whistle goes, I start running. Camaufloging into the crowd running and just run my own race. I find it hard to compete, to fight neck to neck with my fellow comrades. I look down at my watch, I am running three seconds too slow. I up my pace by a bit. I glance around me, the day is a beautiful one. The green trees bring a smile to my face. The birds chirp as the sun shines brightly making it a gorgeous day for the run. I continue to run and soon I notice stares directed at me. My run is still two seconds behind. I huff as I pick up my speed. I take deep breaths and I slowly inch forward making my way through others fighting, struggling to move ahead. I fight my very own battle with stamina and endurance as I make my way around the track.
I love to run. I love even more to run on a beautiful day. I enjoy running 400 to 800 m. I am suitable for the longer sessions cause I can withstand time better. On the other hand, pace doesnt come very naturally to me.
As the run continues on and soon enough the finish line comes in my line of vision. Then, I notice two others along side of me. Glancing nervously between each other and the now faster approaching red ribbon they run on. I calm myself and run my best 100m run. As the ribbon falls and the crowd applauds, I forget the taste of victory and bask in the sweetness of the run. I look around at the other atheletes all bending over catching their breath. Looking dismal at their own remarkable performance. Pleading me to ask the question if life is all about the final destination? If yes, then the beauty of the journey was never truly experienced.