In a space where
life beyond grace does not exist,
In a space where
grace is fooled to be taken to levels beyond life,
In a space where
fear fears disgrace and disharmony,
And in a space where
harmony befriends disharmony and then cheats on it,
There alone will there be a balance of thought and universe,
though that in- INEQUALITY, PREJUDICE, PURPOSE and PAIN.
This piece has been long due. A lot of people have time and again, asked me to write on ‘joy and happiness’. Though very subjective issues, people often categorize joy and happiness into one sphere of ‘good times’.
The thought of joy made her smile,
Joy meant happy for her.
We want joy, we want happy,
Happy and joy- emotions NUTTY!
One may be happy when one sees other happy people, but one may also get sad when one sees other happy people. Paradox? Sadism? Situations in life? None! Just frames of mind. Experiences in life. Your past. Your ex. Your present. Your hopes for the future. I don’t defy the logic of joy in any manner. I am totally ‘FOR’ happy situations and totally ‘FOR’ joy in people and life. But what I don’t agree with is the pinch that the joy and happy in one life makes in other lives. Why can’t all joys be independent? Why does jealousy have to find its ways into the whole spectrum of happy emotions? Why does one negative emotion stand against all positive emotions, and ruin the vibes of positivity? Why are we, as smart intellectual beings (*sarcasm intended*), unable to bifurcate and keep separate, the emotions in our own life and separate them from those of others? Why do we mix things? Why do we confuse them? Why do we make a cocktail of them all, and then call it bad? So here go my thoughts on this-
‘Joy’ and ‘happiness’ are superficial concepts, relevant only to the lives of those to which they are happening. Efforts should be made to keep the others out of it; lest they jeopardize what it is. What should be sought is ‘peace’- Peace of mind, peace of relations, and peace even in pain. Let’s be happy, or at least attempt it, but I’m not too sure about whether we should also spread the joy!
She questioned all that was said,
He answered all that was asked,
They could debate for hours together,
Both ending winners.
Yet one happy to lose.
But they found their peace only in these simple-
Two bits of silence.
One BRIGHT SMILE.
The road is long,
And she knows it well.
No music, no songs,
No streamers, no bells.
She still walks it,
For so she must.
She wants to walk it,
How else would she know the fuss.
“No pain, no gain”-
That’s what they say.
She sees no pain however here,
Only smiles, and smiles, and a brighter BRIGHT EVERYDAY!!
That smile so wide,
It spake is all.
Eyes bright, hope tall,
Chilly winters, spring, summer and fall.
And all was same and just the same,
When something broke the monotony.
That summer afternoon, she could not think,
Of anything but this agony.
This experience, this journey,
Was new for her, she did not know how.
A sparkle in the eye replaced the glitter,
And many other ‘new’ in the tow.
Must they always give it all a name?
No, not at all, and why do they, it’s a wonder.
She’s new around here, and a little bit lost,
This summer, this PAYS DU TENDRE.
(Pays du tendre is an expression commonly used to mean the domain or subject of love)
And then one day,
She fell in love,
Lovely that day it was.
And then that day,
Life didn’t need reason,
Unreasonable, yet fair all was.
She blinked coz she had to,
But feared it’ll all be gone in a blink,
She still blinked, and blinked again, to see if it really did.
It didn’t, it stayed, pretty as ever,
Standing all tests and blinks,
Each day as good as was the start, and sometimes better even.
And now comfort only grows, pain has become a past,
She’s happy, or let’s say ‘illusion-ed’ for the time being,
Looking at life from the LOVE- TINTED GLASS.
Only four lines today, that’ll say it all.
Love is not a word, it is the basis of everything.
Coz love and care it is, that make things simple, pretty and ugly,
She’s happy they exist in forms whatever, they comfort her, they are the reason for the AMAZING.
She questions what she sees,
Believing it too.
She believes what she questions,
Trying not to.
She’s a little stuck with her thoughts,
Haywire yet sensible, and distraught.
She looks up, then swivels her eyes,
Disguising her opinion, hiding her plight.
They call her opinionated,
They say she judges all the time.
Well, she’s only trying to figure out by experimenting, so let her be.
And she’s only happy ever since she STOPPED CARING.