ISSHOKENMEI OF LIFE

 |•ISSHOKENMEI OF LIFE•|

I often wonder, why do I leave things mid way. Not giving much passion or a second thought of getting back. Those things which I leave never meet their end, 'a full stop' much needed. It may be same as our lives, where our breath stops mid way: leaving so much more to relinquish but no commas to continue.

We live in the ink of writers, their words but when the nip breaks, words fail to imprint in the paper of life. Writers hold a certain privilege where their beloved finds permanence in the forever etched words. Such tales airs the creativity in us, pushing us to kindle the fire within us. 

Leaving things have left me no adjectives, I wish for more commas now, like how a chilly zephyr blows the frail flowers from branches, falling down I wish fragrance: an essence of existence in this line of life, where leaving things push me to accomplish more, isshokenmei beckons the sacred light. Falling down the stairs of hope, we are left pained. Pained, dejected, left alone in a corner, yet something is still there. The hope, the urge for a change. Finding the serendipity in our silence. Flowering new doors, where we move forward with nascent steps, slowly, in bits and pieces. 

When the bell of "due date" rings at our back, a boost of hormones surges within, the same when the epic ballad is sung. Spirits knock and the upheaval of thought haunts us. The parched smell of juvenile days pats our shoulders, the honey dipped container of life blooms, unfurling a potpourri of mixed moments: Moments which are carefully preserved like a tasty pickled jar. The buttercups bloom sliding down our forehead.We savour them in bits, in reminiscences.

In bits and pieces, the verity of life writes its story, a fairytale sometimes while often a nightmare. Meandering across, we come out from the cave of existence, leaving no midways but the destined "full stop" becoming a story.

-Anisha Das