I am a little unwell. Nothing much, just going through the
throes, I guess. Happens from time to time. And then it goes away. Lets say one
is in no mood to be mischievous, for a change.
I eavesdropped on someone saying no expectations, perhaps in a dream. I
know the words. I recall the exacting meaning they convey. There seems to be a
dash of restrain, some amount of agony and a delicate sprinkling of logic to
them. It provides the person a perfect get-away. A clean-chit. You can’t blame.
You can’t complain. You can’t look askance. Period.
In hindsight it is perhaps not a bad idea not to expect.
Unnecessarily you lose sleep. You begin to dream half dreams. You begin to care.
You tend to be protective. Quick reveries occur to you. Suddenly you feel
tasked. You start liking daffy things. That is what darned expectations can do
to you.
Dale Carnegie, one of the biggest thinking heads of his
times, once told a massive audience: When dealing with people, remember you are
not dealing with creatures of logic, but creatures of emotion. Somewhere
Carnegie attempts – and probably manages to – put his finger on the exact mash.
That is because all instances of sharing, every act of laughter, whenever we shout,
when we canoodle -- unknowingly we are forking out a slice of that
sacred sentiment, called emotion. Logic comes in much much later.
Then there is a soft globule in most of us. Plebeians call
it heart. It is forever inexperienced. We may attempt to grow. Grow up. Grow
rich. Grow wise. Grow smart but the heart always remains naive. It stays captive to memories.
In reality life is hard. Mean. Unpredictable. The unreal is
often more powerful than the real, because reality is not always real. Without
meaning to sound philosophical, it would be safe to assume that all perceptions
of reality are just opinions.
You look for support, camaraderie, comfort, love. There are
times when you aren’t looking for anything in particular and suddenly you have
it. Such sudden, magnificent relations often offer you the confidence to walk
on the defenses of your own heart. The matchless moments you think you might
spend playing pranks. The circumlocutory silly philosophizing that you would
like to spray each other with. The unmooned darkness you reckon – foolishly –can
be deciphered together. But people move on, wittingly and unwittingly.
Remembrance grows on yew trees.
Bernard Shaw was an influential thinker of his times and
winner of the Nobel Prize for Literature in 1925. He wrote to his friend:
I hope you have lost your good looks, for while they last
any fool can adore you, and the adoration of fools is bad for the soul. No,
give me a ruined complexion and a lost figure and sixteen chins on a farmyard
of crow's feet and an obvious wig. Then you shall see me coming out strong.
I dreamt last night that your heart was my piñata. I am sure
vocabs aren't always good. You might have to look up for Piñata!
@Sameer
