LIFE - If You May Call It

Posted by Ujjaini Roy on Sunday July 23, @09:38AM

“Let there be life,” said HE and the dawn of life breathed it’s full for the first time in the mud statuette called Man.

Thus, was man created! Let there be more thought GOD! Thus, there was Mankind!

If you allow me to write a dictionary of my own, I would coin the phrase of “sorrowed” for the purpose.

You may pass me off as an incorrigible pessimist for having spoken thus; but believe me if you were in my spectacles or better still if you analyse “life” the way I have, may be you would have separate ideas.

Man is a tight-rope walker. Balancing oneself on this tarred road that walks down to the happy hunting grounds with the pole of realisation clutched in his fingers. Man is propelled forward by the chasm, by the spirit, by the undaunted zeal of the untarnished happiness. But ploded! happines is nothing but a misnomer. It passes away the very moment you are supped full with it. It deceives you on the face and claps your mind with humour but actually sounds it’s knell of retreat.

But if happiness is as big as a snowflake then what are it’s flakes made up of ? Man has long been confronted with this question and has answered it in many different ways; but the supreme definition or rather erudite conclusion that a trite person will make out of it, is simple --- "Life is love; love is life."

Man loves to live as much as he lives to love. Said they, "Love twas that made us Love twas that saved us Love was God’s plan when He made man, God’s divine nature is love."

Isn’t this the emperical truth of life ? Nine and three quarters person out of ten will agree with this but that one quarter is a measure of the hypocrisy present in every man --- better still : the living Satan in every soul.

So, while living on this beautiful planet, one is conditioned to oscillate like a pendulum about the importance of love in life. In mothers it is a solace; in rulers it is an outward measure of nobility; in the ploded sections of society — it’s building castles in air; in poets and authors it is rainbow but in lovers as a whole it is a cultivation of useless hopes.

So, living life, the way it should have been, I would love to view life with the eyes of an optimist. But as being a lover, as I said earlier, it is cultivation of useless hopes ---- so, let’s put it this way --- “Is life worth living ?” or better still, “Life ” if you may call it!’