... a religion called destiny

(from the dusty old 'archives' - written way back in 2002...)

Sometimes you come across such a juncture in your life , when everything seems to make you realize that you are growing up.

And it makes you realize this in the hardest way possible. I wonder where those days went when we seemed happy with almost everything that happened to us… and didn't have so much time to think.

About, for and with.

The road that we walked on was straight... certain, with a peaceful innocence that was so warm, and pleasant. Regardless of what transpired, we could hold Maa's hand and melt away all our worries. Even now, we can do this. But, somehow, we have something going on in our heads that's different in a way.

We call it intelligence. Or may be 'sense'? I am sure these things were there before.
These fuzzy networks of sinewy complexities and nervous possibilities...

And yet, now, they make weird noises... which are getting louder by the minute! Fact is - they don't really mean anything, but you can sort of make out that they are 'protests'.

These are newer sounds that Mom cant hear.
More so, can't understand...

The so called maturity in growing up is mostly a myth. Or at best a coincidence.
Bottom line is : Mothers strike out.
We can't go back to her.

Neither of us will feel good about it. I guess that is what growing up means.

'Never never land' becomes a myth and a reality at the same time.

I love it for some reasons.
I hate it for most of the reasons.

The road that we walk on now meanders so much that we don't even realize what we may encounter at every corner and bend.
Sometimes, when we know, we pretend not to know and run away...
We run and reach a hiding place... but we can't stay there for too long. So, we come back, and this time, trapped, the situation worsens.

That's growing up, I guess.
Before, we never looked back. We never had to come back. We just happily found new places to take shelter in.
Now, shelters are not that easy to come by.
But to dream of them is simple enough.
The sound of shattering dreams is not infrequent though.

We have so many things to ask, so many things to say... but not enough words to express ourselves. We are often silenced by the shape of things to come, the infinite possibilities that the future holds...
And a religion called destiny.