The darkest of the nights are always followed by the brightest of the days and a whole new perspective to life. A killer realization of the thick line, shall we call it the electric fencing, that separates reality from fiction. A crash course about life has just been completed and the hell lot of information I gained has almost constipated my mind beyond capacity. Tough, are the times when true love shows. Yeah maybe! But with me, either there is no truth or love or the time was not tough enough, that the inferences differed. No personal comments have been hinted at anybody.
Fairy tales have always fascinated me. The ‘happy endings’ which happen to be the most common trait of all fairy tales was and still is my biggest fantasy. Despite the ample problems and evil curses, the princess meets her prince and ‘they live happily ever after’. One of the phrases in the world of literature that cannot be ignored. Cinderella’s glass shoe, rapenzell’s long hair, the spindle which put the beauty to an eternal sleep, the apple that poisoned snow white, the rose which played the cupid between the beauty and the beast; a world where the inanimate, non living objects have their special identity. A world where good always triumphs over evil. A world full of love and happiness. A world where every story has a happy ending.
Frankly, fiction is after all not that distinguished when compared to reality. Real life orbits around happy endings, as well. Unlike in the fictitious world, here, one man’s food is other man’s poison. Reality is strongly based on the slaughtering of one man’s feelings in order to gain happiness or cynical pleasure, name it as you want. Its more than just easy to cremate hope, but it is as hard or even harder to hope against hope, that someday things will change. A little something I saw today on my ride back home, was truly an eye-wetter and a hope raiser. A ray of hope that life could be a fairytale.
An old man who had unfortunately lost both his legs was seated on a three-d cycle, with a bale of rags he had picked for the day. Sweaty and dark, pale and thin as a rake, he stood at the traffic signal, beside me. The sight was awful enough to stand through. However, my sight involuntarily shifted across to take a second look at this man, during which, an old woman hopped onto the cycle, with a new bag full of her pick from the street. The man rotated the pedals with his hands, while his wife, steered the three wheeler, safe across the road. In the split of a second they were out of sight, but made the deepest of the impressions in my mind.
For this couple, the day begins and ends with rag-picking. Their dream of having a better lifestyle might have tumbled down, when the so called bread earner of the family was handicapped for life. Despite all the bruises and scars, they hope against hope, that some miracle might change their life. They might have held each others hand tight and promised to walk past every obstacle together. Every mountain becomes a mere stone, when you are in love.
Life does truly change when you know somebody cares for you. This somebody could be your mother, father, brother, sister, boyfriend, girlfriend, cousin, pet dog, cat, god or even jai singh rathore:) I spend half my day cribbing about not having anything to look forward to. I spend the other half, whining about the wrong things I chose for myself. I almost have little or no time for the one's i once loved so much. Grandmother calls up to spend a few moments with me, I hang up on her coz a friend calls up at the same time. Despite everything, she still loves me, i love her too, but its so hard to express.
However, the only possible conclusion I can make for this topic is that, fiction is a subset of reality and never the other way round.
