/it’s shortlived

Our capacity for happiness or contentment or gratification, we can fit inside a matchbox without taking out the matches. Life for us has been that way — a drive on a dark highway with an off-chance of a working lamppost that passes too quickly for it to illuminate our entire vehicle at any given point in time.

It’s like when you are watching a fast-paced action sequence with the bad guys (plural, yes, ‘cause what’s even a gripping scene if not for the bad-to-good ratio of a dozen to one) trying their best to inflict some sort of damage to the good guy and then one of them almost succeeds when they wield their katana and it barely misses the good guy’s nose and hair as the camera punches in and goes in super slow-motion to immerse you into the scene. At that moment you know there’s a flood coming. You know this time standing still, however great it is, cannot be stretched beyond a limit. You know that it will speed up very fast, very soon. And you are okay with it, heck, even looking forward to it, if I can take the cautious liberty of saying so. Heck, if they held the shot for too long, you would be annoyed. The katana passes, the hero survives, the bikes collide, and the good guy has his sweet sweet victory after a quick series of blows to the bundle of goons.

The sequence was building towards something, you got your release (read: reward), and now you start looking forward to what’s gonna come up next. Isn’t that synonymous with our journey of life — the constant toil, the tiny bit of reward, and the return of the drudgery? The scenes in this and the previous carousel are representative of this cycle. The grey, followed by brief greens, followed by the return of the snow cloaking the green. I am glad I experienced the greens fully for however long they lasted. And my message, if I am even capable of giving any would be to enjoy such rare moments and be grateful for them for hey, even though it is short-lived, it is at least ‘lived’. (Not my best work, I know. But hey, I tried)