Life is the greatest teacher. It doesn’t speak. It doesn’t say you are doing it wrong; it simply walks with you wherever you take it. It doesn’t say anything. It’s like those still hills that surround this city. It looks. It hears. It sees. But it doesn’t speak. But once, in everybody’s life, comes a time when they realize the importance of their own lives. Some realize too early and they make it to the point, and some realize it a little late but still they too make it to the point. Life would be too long if we would realize our mistakes too early. And then we would have lots of time to make decisions, the well planned ones.
The city makes its presence noticeable. People, vehicles, the noise of shutters, the news. All for all. And the day gives us options. Options to live, options to die, options to cry, options to smile, options to scratch the wounds, options to heal the wounds. And I choose many from one. I choose to scratch the wounds, options to heal the wounds. And I choose many from one. I choose to live with memories. I choose to cry clinging on to the torn sleeves of my memories, I choose to smile when I hear that divine voice that comes somewhere from the heap of my memories and tells me to let it go, I choose to scratch the would that my memory isn’t able to heal. And I choose to heal the wound when it gets scratched. And life goes on. It’s been going on. I don’t know where. I wish I could let everything go…I wish I could wake up with a vacant mind…I wish I could stop remembering. I wish I could stop making stories…
(p.s was going through my journals when I came across these words..not mine but Kamlesh’s..though relevant.Well the boy is having the time of his life in a beautiful place in Far-western Nepal…while I bring his exclusive pieces for your eyes..as for my ramblings..a bit busy attending meetings 🙂 )