O Fickle Spirit!

Life

It’s an illusion. I see someone wearing that crown. I envy him. I suddenly feel like wearing it. Thus gets triggered what’s called as a tom-&-jerry series; based on the scale of the fight I stage, I either clinch the crown or accept my defeat.

If I win, I no longer feel obsessed. At once, the passion gets evaporated. Then a short time of good air all around comes. I like it. I get used to it soon. This is the ripe time for another shot of envy. But something went wrong somewhere. My likes are so fickle. Some sunny day, I want her. The other day clouds hover above and I like her sister. Next day comes a storm and I fall for her friend. Suddenly it rains and I have found out her brother to be the hulk next door. The cycle is over and I again find her face so sunny. Funny but the bottom-line is that I never know what exactly I am running after. It’s an illusion. Her face, her gait, her hair, her top, her bottom, her side view, her (on) top view – it will all fade away. What began with a wink, ends-up as a kink once she is mine. And I am all set to fall prey to another illusion.

‘Defeat’ comes to those who look for ‘fate’ hidden inside the word. Winners are those who discover the hidden ‘feat’ in defeat and take it up as a challenge. Every challenge is a simple deal. It is a game of give and take. If I give my time, I may get something. If I give my efforts, I will get something. If I give everything I have got; I will get the most of it. And if I am ready to die for it, I will get it all. Every piece of the cake will yearn to be all mine. Pretty simple and straightforward, isn’t it? Oh, and if I am willing to kill for it, I shall win some sentences as bonus. The crux of the story is a question. Is defeat a quicker escape from an illusion than winning?

Probably yes. Defeat lets me get over the present illusion and find the next one. Or may be it is not. Defeat doesn’t free me from the curse of the desire. It just lets me crush and compress it. But the desire remains there, somewhere. Victory, on the contrary, ends the whole story. It isn’t the complete story until it ends happily. However clichéd it may sound, it is a raw fact.

The apprehension materialized and the inference is that my life is but a series of phases marked by the pursuit of different illusionary targets. I spend the whole life running after things in a quest for satisfaction and happiness. Owing it to the insatiable thirst in humans, I spend the whole life realizing even if the juice is worth the squeeze, it’s gone once I drink it and then I have got to squeeze all over again. And then, my comrade, I succumb to spirituality, with a hope to find the perpetual spring of eternal bliss. But again, who knows if the path is right. I am either relying on my guts or have no alternative. Whatever may be the case, the wise and the sagacious say that all the roads lead to (h)OM(e). Fair enough.