Walking forward

I had been running too fast, too wild

Eager in my need to reach the end

But now that the race flag tickles my nose

I wonder which way does the road ahead bend?

For the end I pictured is hardly the close

And there are miles and miles stretched before me

Of winding roads, some straight some steep,

Waiting for me to choose to a part of them be

But which way do I go? I grope for the answer

As time slips beneath my feet , smooth and deft

Waiting for none, as the old adage goes

And my pulse quickens at the thought of what time's left

I need to decide and pick one path

To set a new goal and reach a new end

But now that I have wisened up to my limits

I know that end will also have a new beginning round the bend

So whew! The pressure's dropped a little

But I still need to cross the line and begin a new race

Without losing time, so precious as it be

Choosing a path I believe I can best face!

And with a sigh, I give up the comforts of the past I know

And gear up to face the unknowns in my future

With courage I didn't know existed within

And a belief that I can always start afresh, for sure!

'Some people remember to forget'.

A long long time ago, close to my sixth or seventh grade, I used to attend these classes known as Balvihar classes (I tried to come up with a way to describe what exactly happened in these classes but as you can see, failed miserably.So for those who are unfamiliar with the term, pardon my ineptitude.) Our teacher, one Mrs. Mani better known as Hari Om aunty to all us kids, began this one Sunday by narrating this story of 3 monkeys with pictures. At the end of the story she tells us that she wants us to forget it. It was our 'homework' for the day and we were to report to her whether we forgot the story or not.

Next Sunday, when all us bumbling cool kiddos met up for the class, her first question was, 'How many of you remembered the picture of the 3 monkeys?' Now, although the notion to be the coolest kid still prevailed amongst all of us, Balvihar classes were always attended with a sense of sanctity assigned to the place. Which is why, every last one of us with sheepish expressions put our hands up in the air. Those hands just bore testimony to her lesson for the week- 'you can never forget when you remember to forget'.I ran back home at full speed because I was proud to finally have understood the meaning of the proverb that stood tall on my showcase. 

And so, it has been years and years since I learnt that fundamental principle of life and yet, I find it so hard to adhere to it. In my two decades on this planet, I have had my palate full of the various shades life has to offer-joy, sorrow, fear, love et al. And just like any other sane human being, I wish with all my heart to be able to forget all the darker events in life. But I wish it so desperately that I remember every night to forget it! So you can deduce how successful I must have been in that task...

Why is man so naturally inclined to the blacks and greys? How is it that joyous moments - both big and small- seem such an ephemeral eventuality? Whereas sorrow is every man's life long friend? It's especially ironical since I pride myself at being a bright and shiny optimist but fall prey to these pain pangs ever so often. Why can't we program ourselves to naturally reject the bad memories and retain only the good? A happy memory brings us all so much cheer that our cache should be permanently made to keep only those morale boosters. Would be soooooo good to forget that recurring nightmare of mine that took place some year and half ago... Shudder....

Fact that I shiver at the thought of it reflects how dutifully I must have told myself to remember to forget that night, eh?? Oh! For that era when I will but remember my kick-ass trip to Goaaaaaa.....

Sigh! Yet another wish on my ever-growing wishlist...