Prashant's Solace

 This is a tale of an emerging I-land, Where S for society is negligibly silent.                               Organs with ideals loud, in it were big three,               And very unlike the alphabet, it all began with C; Noble in initials, C took I to some gain, Many say now evident, it intents not the same;               Boisterous B began unlike, religion its fundamental,               Short not sweet its reigns, looks for strong revival; Parading all virtuous, swaying gazes along comes A, "Lets promise I to glory," says, "C and B can only decay";                Misery sea stepping feet, I-landers simply look on,                Can any hold the surges, least survival be forgone; Step up, say I, I-landers, its we who make state, Just not C, B or A, A to Z build the alphabet;               Master if we language, that makes I for all,               No wave too strong to flood, eternally we can stand tall!          

                                    Musings of ... shall I say, an 'ordinary Indian life'? Life works in mysterious ways. There are times when principles guide you into a particular action and reasonably so. But then again there comes a moral dilemma of relations. People. Humans who are related to oneself in a love hate relationship create a unique situation. Times when we forego all that we want to stand for or are willing to stand for, just to nurture that bond.  There will be a time when shadows that lead our path will fall behind. Relations left out to face themselves lost over time and space.                                                                                                                                 Photo by René DeAnda on Unsplash This strange predicament is underlined in the cultural milieu that is India, atleast the way I have known it. Here people live, cultures flourish not guided by strong individuality, not even by reason bu