Inconsistency
is my Muse. I have travelled a considerable path in my life. I am no longer a
teenager. Not a “just out of teen”. I am in my late twenties. I have realized that
I have a lot of love in my being. But I cannot channelize it in the
conventional way. I can’t always make it a point to whisper a sweet nothing in
my beloved’s ears. I forget to mention how beautiful the dear one looked last
evening. But I notice. Absorb with all
my might. So much so that I lose out on words. When I gaze at the mountains, I
meditate. I forget to tell those majestic being – how breathtaking they are! I trek
my way up a winding river- I am so engrossed that I forget to scribble my
thanks in its bed. I intend to do it all. But I don’t. In not doing what I
should lays my incompleteness. Then again I sit and wonder how important is
verbal acknowledgement. An active expression of receipt. “Dear I read your blog”. And a bright smile
spreads across the expectant face. Recognition is always fulfilling. When I
work on my words and I share with someone tugged to my heart- I expect a smile,
a spark, a little appreciation, or just a nod. Therefore the same applies to
others who expect that from me. But I
falter. I don’t always find myself being time-proper. Anyway it’s too late to
mend my ways. And who said that I was born to do the right things? Exorcism of
Swagata Basu? A near impossibility. I’d
be as incorrigible as I am. Perhaps the only corrigendum ever issued on me
would be in an unwritten epitaph or a never published obituary!
