How long is 'too long'? How is 'too short'?
How do you measure time?
Hours?
Minutes?
Seconds?
Shouldn’t time be measured in moments? In events? In memories?
Memories that you remember…moments that broke your heart or events that you cherish...events that lasted way too long like the family function with all those old n artificial aunties (artificial hair…artificial teeth…and even their gossips are also artificial… aaaarggghhh!!) or the moments that lasted way too short like the Dumdum to Kalighat metro ride with that pink salwar-kameez-wali by your side.
How do you measure time?
Hours?
Minutes?
Seconds?
Shouldn’t time be measured in moments? In events? In memories?
Memories that you remember…moments that broke your heart or events that you cherish...events that lasted way too long like the family function with all those old n artificial aunties (artificial hair…artificial teeth…and even their gossips are also artificial… aaaarggghhh!!) or the moments that lasted way too short like the Dumdum to Kalighat metro ride with that pink salwar-kameez-wali by your side.
Shouldn’t time be measured in the memory of the echoing laughter of your younger sister when you’d tickle her?Shouldn’t time be measured in the smile that crosses your face at the very thought?Shouldn’t it be measured in the helplessness that you felt when you saw your mother having a bad headache and were old enough to realize her pain? The fact that you can actually do nothing about it but to just stand at the door and watch your father sitting with her head in his lap and a frown on his face---wouldn’t it be right to measure the beats of your scared little heart as time?
The first blankness that engulfed you after being announced as the winner of some silly competition which meant the world for you…the numbness that you felt when India lost the World cup finals…the crazy Bhashan dance on Dashomi…the fear on the night before the results…the cycle ride that ended in an accident…the sinking feeling when your crush went ahead and proposed to your best friend and she (that bitch!) accepted…the effort that went into making that surprise cake or that unknown bird cooing away on a very lonely afternoon---isn’t this time?
Then who (the hell) says time doesn’t come back. It is the only thing in this (freaking) world that is yours…completely and totally yours…coming back to you…whenever you want…at your very first call…over and over again.
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2 comments:
time heals. thats all i can say about it. in this wasted 26 years, i know that time heals. but it also doesnt come back. right this moment when i make a typo and correct it again, or suddenly stop while crossing the road as i realise i misjudged the speed of the coming vehicle, or take a decision and start acting on it, or call a number and wish i didnt, or say something untoward and tried to undo it, or touching someone in a certain way for the very last time, or seeing something exhilerating or tormenting for the very first, or anything that we do at this instant, this moment, this second, the way we are, we never get back. Our mistakes remain mistakes, griefs remain sad, rewards remain smiles, and that inherent feeling that we felt about something or somebody remains exactlty the same. Time sometimes helps you forget, or become cruel enough to sometimes make you forget, and yeah, it heals. but i dont think it gives a second chance. A scond instance under similar circustances may be, but not a second chance. for people change, every instant, and so do their circumstances, only memories remain the same. And one cannot repeat a memory with a different person.
Whats that phrase? yeah, you dont step in the same river. i love cliches sometimes, they are so blunt, boring, blatant and brilliant.
Anyway..... delightful photos.... as always.
some incomplete sentences and tense errors... but i wnt bother to correct them..... but the one profound one.... "you dont step into the same river twice"....
what can i say.... i forgot the word.. :P
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