Between Hope and Despair
The times have been humdrum and so lacklustre. It’s you caught in the storms of hopelessness and hurt once again. There is much loss of faith for it is not so easy to hold on at moments as these. Everything is appearing only displeasing with underlying nuances of nihilism. Blames being put here and there. All that is begotten is a restless and upset shape. One thinks the things cannot go any bad anymore; it catches you off guard each time, the time itself. It all appears so frangible, suspended in endless nothing.
Closer to heart, back home — Kashmir — cannot recall when was the last time the state of affairs was good enough and adequate. Wounded it is, wounded it has been as such. But what it is not and has never been is unsteadfast or a nobody. A wish and a strong desire — may the things reform, and perpetually so, in an enduring manner. There’s only so much one can take. Recovery is awaited before the forbearance shatters. The thing that emboldens is it has never come across as a write-off.
When this ends, which I know it will, things will normalise but that usual is going to be not-so-usual this time. Things will turn out better. They have to. Lessons have been learnt and experiences have been distilled. Propitious is the concept. For isn’t it out of hardships that miracles take birth?
When that happens, it is going to be a good day.
So hang in there, World.