Understanding the Point of Being in exposure to the past: A tribute- The Farewell at School

Understanding the Point of Being in exposure to the past: A tribute- The Farewell at School: It was not fair bargain at a point of time when a good-bye was all the need. But what about a man who has worked knowing heart in heart to...

A tribute- The Farewell at School

It was not fair bargain at a point of time when a good-bye was all the need. But what about a man who has worked knowing heart in heart to live a success in you. He does not delve down the gene of your possession nor does own your success in material. The scrap, a piece of paper thrown at your face; you deserve it. Yes, you deserve it not, he means. The ugly picture in your mind and the perfect painting in his, there is no match, no negotiation on sharing the guilt. Fourteen years down the line, I remember it as fresh the morning sun in my window. Don’t confuse it with the anger or revenge or hate- it is an apology between us which I could not speak out and he lives with it for not hearing it with the silence and shame, I had. Well that is my teacher who believed in me and I let him down, down to his imagination of me.

Fourteen years mean me standing up past midnight after exhaustive day and write a vow, a sigh to tell to him, my indecisiveness and disinterest has finally ended in an extraordinary vacuum. What would I know as a greatest pleasure in some time from here now, is what I have been thinking all the time, not making a hero out of the shackles unbound of time. Long years of silence, distraction and that small humiliating moment of unimaginable magnitude to define me as a person, has now the rigor of calling a fortune in the way of my being. Life is a lot beyond the being the person and that autonomous part of life is really like a fuel to the rocket you guide to space which never return- to undo the past. In this run, for past years carrying that moment in my mind, I realised, it was one single decision which tore apart the very foundation of laying your bare feet with uncertainty to future. My heart melted for a weeping innocent soul in that moment of trial and my mental faculties stopped responding perhaps they were not enough developed at that time. I did the best I could; I cheated myself to let that innocent soul be something s/he would not be otherwise. I lost opportunity of being just while being kind. There on, I lived in this dilemma, all along to finally settle for an answer which was anything as easy as I earned. From here, looking through the clock in that distance of years, I again find myself telling nothing but being the same person with silence and shame and a little guilt. I still don’t have the words to change that person in me. What I have learned is to fool him, in a moment, in a distance of any arrangement probably with a more honed person.  

Understanding the Point of Being in exposure to the past

I have so far tried to locate you in the interstices of memories that define us and in effect you are inducted in my memory. Moments of love that are salient with the flow of life and reason are all over yet not required. The complex social structure of our life has narrowed its ways for us. By the time we are readying for each other, it may start killing the reason between us. For now, it is alive and dead, squeezed or free from our clutches, somewhere.  It has its existence beyond us but it continues to grow within us, around us and sometimes scare us with the uncompromising realities. When I stop for a while and think, it is the time I start measuring the past through the lenses of present and derive some meaning for future. But looking back at past is cumbersome, frustrating, exhausting and to some extent unrelentingly elating. Past is everything, past is possession and past is existence, it is not easy to touch and explicate the past in a wholesome rather break it in some events which are glittering or dark when we look back at them from present. When we just drop out of our home in some unfathomed evening, sometime distressed and restricted in our dispositions , we are drawn to look up in sky to the belief of God that some alms may flow down from the heaven or Allah as thou stand high in skies. In our sighs we also realize the shining stars away from us make the universe large place than our imagination and we are released. Same is the case with past, when we look back in it, we see a lot of life stored in small events which has defined us, designed us and projected us. Where I stand now is compilation of chronic events, block over block, in line and symmetry.  Part of me is what you are and part of you is what I am- inseparable yet defined separately. What are common, the point of synergy, communion in our existence, are the memories we derive separately from the life which in itself is one, transposing between us and coincidentally merging us in a whole. It seems blasphemous to talk about first kiss, first hug, and first delight of unimaginable magnitude and first tears of love. All of it is heavenly, at least it transcends to heavens. But it is also elusive in its nature, intensity and longevity, uniquely moving to the place of sacredness and safety away from human reach and with every passing moment it grows, strengthens and solidifies its existence separate from us yet within us. We buy illusions to say love squeezed between the thin lines of destiny and in fear of its death we deliberately and desperately try to erase it from the sacred and safe throne where it is inscribed permanently and perfectly. We live in memories as an idea, perfect in itself and immortal, away from the existence of us.