so…this is it…the moment…i craved for…to
write again…to pen down my thoughts…to fill this barren page…from the
beginning of life…through the evolution of mankind…to this age…different
moments have defined…redefined…the history…our history…our lives…it is
true to state that it is these moments that we accumulate and then in
the end of the journey…we say- “this is my life”
moments can be of different types…a happy
one… a sad one…affecting different people…may be affecting a single me…a
recurrent one…a single one…a moment that defines my existence…that
defies my existence…redefines my existence…erases my
existence…forever…moments can also be
of…happiness…sadness…cruelness…forgiveness…there can be moments in
which…a newborn cries and sees the world…the very moment…an aged lady
bids farewell to this earth…two lovers make love for the first time…the
precise moment…another couple break each others’ hearts to end love…a
doctor picks his knife to save a life…while a murder picks his knife to
end someone else’s life…a beggar starves to have a meal of the day…while
an innocent teenager starves to be slim…a noted humanitarian receives
the Nobel prize for peace…while at that precise moment a religious
fanatics burns a house in the name of god…while a wall is broken to
unite Germany…while other walls are raised to give birth to the new
Russia…while a dictator carries on with a genocide for years…another
dictator is excavated from a hole only to be hanged later…while a rock
star dies for being a dreamer…the other dies for his addiction of
drugs…a comedian cries to make us laugh…while the other laughs to make
us cry…so there are always things happening at same precise moment…some
we are part of it…some we are not…sometimes we are not…some witness
it…sometimes we ignore it…sometimes we cry for it…sometimes we laugh
along…sometimes we die for it…sometimes we live on…
so the conclusion that glances for a while
and then fades into the horizon of oblivion…the way we craft our moments
…the statue of life is a reflective of them…we are the makers of our
statue…and we carve day and night…tirelessly with our chisels…
so mathematically…life is simple…
but living it is not…
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