Human emotions cannot be put into words at times. Even the strongest is uncontrollable in front of those they like and appreciate the most. People come and go in life. There may be a reason for that . I’ve never questioned as to why it happens. They live for seconds, minutes or a few hours and get blown away. They disappear for years. Some never come back: like those kites that lose its direction and get tangled in a faraway tree or a roof. Never seen. Kite runners would never know where their kites are . They are gone. Gone forever, leaving hearts aching.
Darwin is a truth. It’s about survival of the fittest . We all struggle. We get crushed. We fight to acquire things. Even people.
The 14th, three days before it was Vesak. There were buckets hung on a tree by my neighbor. They looked nice when burning that night. It rained later. On that rain drenched Vesak, the next morning I saw half of the buckets on the ground. Torn and in some just the kambiya was left . Nothing hard to contemplate on. It’s easy. This is what Buddhism talks of, that everything is impermanent. The law is ancient. Cannot be changed.
We are unborn young and demise unplanned. Skies never know when it will rain. When will the sun shine. We are not informed of droughts, floods or a Tsunami. They just happen as nature allows. Sun rises from the east. We all know . Can’t the sun wake up from the west ? just for once? It might if nature wants. We never know. We like sunsets. We admire sunsets even being adults. Not because of the purple red , yellow mixed orange patches that are seemingly beautiful but because they are fleeting. Very fast like those day and night stories of people who walk in and out of our lives.
The day was bright. Everything was fine and neat. Things were full, even the trees with leave. Unlike the other days the wathusudda tree on the side of the street was white all over. There wasn’t a single branch one could spot without a flower. Sun rays had fallen to the ground. The brownish sand sparkled. I liked his smile. The cheeks puffed out with wrinkles around .They were clear and heartwarming. A widened mouth with neatly arranged teeth. He remembered his younger days. He told me about the people he know. Asked a few questions. I don’t remember. There were smiles and giggles that met each of us. They broke the silence. We came to know our selves. Lines that kept us alike. I was too amazed to speak. He played with my hair. Fingers cuddled with affection. We were tied from string to string. Hearts blended together. Like the glass powder coated manja, an abrasive string entangled and gummed around fingers of kite runners. But that wasn’t meant to be pulled. Our kites weren’t meant to be cut and captured.
But they were carried off by somebody who really didn’t like strings. Tears ran down my cheeks. It was another wet day in December. The rain drops pricked the earth with heavy noises. The air gulped my breaths. They were too fragile , who alone could make me fly or bring me down.
( Featured in “ The Nation" newspaper , 25th May 2014)
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