Story of a life ...

One random winter weekend nothing to do, probably the entire enthusiasm for living has got for a toss. Not because I had a bitter break up or I was home alone or I was aloof by everyone, probably Vice versa. I found a crumb lying beneath the beam bag on which I was sitting, getting crushed as much as my heart. Before I picked it up, one last message I wanted to type and end it of …

“If you ever liked the relation, you would have known how much it pains. Whatever, you are splendor of the loser, my ditcher! “

Then to the contrary, I found the rag having a man’s pic overly smiling like in a tooth paste ad. But the message was strong…

“Life is too short for discoveries of your own unless you come out to explore the exposed exclusivity “

I haven’t actually decided to attend that Stammtisch like thing of the veterans but the teaser and tedium played their part of spur. Finally I got off my dark den and set a long walk towards the beautiful park where the veterans already started off  with their cartoon exhibition. Probably they were talking about the way young take the life so insanely.

There was awe spread across them seeing me there. Done with initial part of my intro, I was just killing my time but eventually my attention was dragged by an old man, probably 85+ years. 

Every minute has been a gift, so it’s the present from the lord. How do you take the right to complain the beauty of creation where you are a mere scrounger? I haven’t asked for that Oxford education, I have not asked for the beautiful wife and healthy child.

I couldn’t resist being nasty. "You have got everything what a perfect life has. Any reason to complain? Then philosophy never existed in your life".

 He looked deep intense into my eyes. Donno why, but my body had a virtual current shock internally. I shivered as the water rushed beneath the blood.

 He then narrated, “My wife is paralyzed when my son had passed away in the 9/11”. Neither I am too good to serve my beautiful lady with my two arms too”. Then he stood up on his clutches. All I could see a portion of pantaloons hanging each side where the legs are to be freely flown. All he has nothing but a broken-down shed and a rickety sack that is “patched with flour sacks” and looks “like the flag of permanent defeat.” The skin of his gaunt body illustrates his hardships and is marked with deeply-set wrinkles, scars, and blotches from the punishing sun. And because of his terrible misfortune, he is a pariah in his cartoon paints. But paradoxically that all reflected was quite a contrast of his life. They were happy, glee and so enticing. Everything was so much about the art of living, probably that is what his personality is.

But something that pricked me was, when you Donna the surprise of next moment in your life. .how are you sure of a decision for life time? He was good in explaining this too…

Life is too short for discretion. Today is what you get.... Live it the fullest as it comes...

Then I asked him rest is on destiny?

Nope... It is how strong your will power is to live with it.

Then why it pains when it is broken?

Coz you are making your own choice of it. The irony is, you don’t have the choice of things coming your way yet you wish have with is again a toss. The desire, the expectation is your best rival.

Certainly these made an effect on my living. He was not seen again but his inspiration was my motivation not because he had an Oxford degree but for the way he lived without two legs yet supporting the world on his crutches. The only thing he had was a crutch of smile through his cartoons.

“In the attitude of silence the soul finds the path in a clearer light, and what is elusive and deceptive resolves itself into crystal clearness. Our life is a long and arduous quest after Truth. ”