UNDULATIONS

Relationships are like the particles of sand on a beach. They change their form and morphology with every approaching or departing wave in the sea.

The sea, which is said to have the power to engulf almost anything, and yield nothing back, is like the puppeteer, in whose hands, the strings of our relationships are firmly bound. And the fate of which depend on every movement he makes. The audience laughs when he’s cheerful and it cries when he is gloomy.

Similarly, our relations keep changing their course and ways with the incidents in life. They may crop up all of a sudden, they may last for decades without even a conscious effort, their charm may be lost despite all endeavors to sustain them and they may re-kindle when one least expects it.

We dance the dance of glee if the master Creator is so pleased and we mourn in the vanities around when He has chosen all but us as the puppets of his latest show.

We can never define our relationships as something that is constant. We may call a person our ‘best friend’ until time an tide has separated them apart so that they are hardly aware what each is living through. Not that we do not make a conscious effort to rekindle the friendship, but, the fire comes out only when there is a spark.

Another person might have been just a familiar face a few days or months back. But, in the course of time, becomes the counterpart of all that has gone past you. S/he is not only the sole witness of what you will never be able to share with anybody but is also the helping hand when you feel too feeble to lay the brick for the step you want to take ahead. S/he may hold the candle for you when you come looking for it in the dark room and may ring the bell of hope when your heart has stopped listening to it.

You wish to clutch the person’s hand forever who has eventually meant the most for you and at times the only one for you.

Still , the gambling time takes its turn and you are once again thirsty for more affection, and more attention. You direct your steps towards someone you had left way behind in the long run. You wish to make it all the same as before but the time has sped and the emotions have fled. You try to upturn the heavy-set rocks and you try to uncover all that was hid underneath. But every time you do that with a hope to find some roots intact and some leaves alive, you only get withered remains, you only get the powdered moss.

The dirty hands sometimes wonder if they should stop turning and upturning every stone. But, that is the dance the fingers dance, and that is the show the puppeteer runs !

For without show, there would be no puppets, there would be no audience. There would be no cries, there would be no smiles and hence we call this life, ‘A Life Full Of Undulations' !