THE CELEBRATION OF BEING ALIVE

THE CELEBRATION OF BEING ALIVE
The time form Christmas to New Year is one of joy and celebration every year. The television screen is splattered with messages symbolizing the dawn of happiness. The weather is also not that bad. Flowers bloom all over.

The blooming flowers are symbolic of the fact that my fate has a lot more in its kitty. My fate is sure to push me in the company of fame, fortune, and controversies. My first salvo against fate began with my accident. I had to surmount incredible odds to reach the contemporary position. The battle is not yet over, there are bound to be hundreds of obstacles, but the equations have changed now. The resurrection of my dreams from the doldrums is certainly going to take some time. Of course, there is enough reason to celebrate despite the doleful aura.

The doleful aura reminds me of the good times in my life. She crept into my life through the arcaded corridors of time in so subtle a manner that her presence in my dull and serene life was unnoticed for a long time. Then things began to change. I began to find comfort from the darker portions of my life in her thoughts. The gloomy thoughts that had been plaguing me for a long time could be countered by thinking of her. I could now win the tirade against the grim portions of my life. Her thoughts had the power to make me wish to be a part of the idealized celluloid world where things turned out well in the end.

The end is gradually, slowly, but surely coming closer. I can do very little but watch the show as my dreams proceed to become alien. The old rules---of tradition, values, family links and courtesy----would cease to apply themselves to her. A crystal ball would not be required to see the dismal future that awaits me. My spirits would be in the doldrums long before the confetti has been cleared away, the streamers have been packed, the mehndi on her hands has dried up, and the festive spirit caught the last bus home. I would find myself scrambling for cover even as the dark clouds prepare to burst over my head.

The cloud-burst is sure to have its repercussions for quite some time. My preparedness is bound to be helpful in tiding the crisis. The crisis would eventually give way to another beautiful episode, probably better than the latter. At the end of the day, I would realise that there are two flowers where I thought that there was only one, perhaps there are three or four, or any number as good as the first. I would come to discover another part of myself----the part that can celebrate the best portions of life. The celebration of being alive is, after all, living.