Life gallops on at a reckless pace
I know not where it will stop
The reins are not in my hands
My feet not in the stirrups
If you love somebody, let them go, for if they return, they were always yours. And if they don't, they never were. Khalil Jibran, one of the greatest American thinkers averred many many years ago. Not only is Khalil my fav – I have read ten of his books -- his lines are etched in my mind like wrinkles upon a nomad of 100. I’ve no reason to feel unloved yet by some medieval, weird deep rhyme inside me I do. Only at times. I take solace from Jibran’s timeless words. Then there is another dusk.
I was woken today by soft chimes of the cell phone. Still half-asleep, I wished it were that ‘special’ someone saying good-morning, Samy. Long back I used to get such calls. Sweet interludes. Not anymore. It turned out to be some silly girl trying to sell me a credit card. I put my head down on the pillow, the ac-chill wheezing through the room. Do you require the silver tinted, gold-hued card? The poor girl went on. No, I said in a threatening tenor; I need someone to make me feel naughty. The chick hung up!
I tried to close my eyes in an effort to shut out the hurt. There are times when one wants to snort joyful volumes of that familiar scent. The tutting indulgence. The cold combination of garish stuff and bland, beautiful eyes. Innocent face on my bracing biceps. Looking outwards in the same direction without any purpose. Without reason. Trying to find some arcane excuse. Make some reason out of life’s complex turns.
I am a tramp, I am sure. Nobody gets my message!