Swan Song

They say, when you can't say it, write it. But if you don’t know what to say, you can't write it either. If emotions are the first clues to your mind, then I guess I am completely clueless. I don’t know what to feel. It’s like going to a restaurant and being challenged by a menu card that throws dishes at you, the names of which you can't even pronounce. But indecision can't keep a man hungry. So I guess I too will aim a shot in the dark.

I wish every man’s actions, decisions and intentions came with a little footnote; stating the possible implications of each. Much like the statutory warning on a cigarette pack. At least then we can't we surprised and angry about not having been warned in advance. Innocence is the greatest weapon of defence against man’s guilt. But a defeated soldier has no option but to lay down his weapons.

I haven’t read Shakespeare’s ‘A comedy of errors’. But I wish mine were laughable too. I guess they are. When foolishness repeats itself, the only way to accept it is with a chuckle. That way it becomes a little more palatable. But this is strictly a privilege of onlookers. The fool can never smile. Because the day he realises his foolishness, he doesn’t find anything funny about it.

Jonathan Swift wrote, “ The latter part of man’s life is taken up in curing follies, prejudices and false opinions he had contracted in the former.” Suddenly I feel so old. And like all old people, I feel sad that in spite of changing my opinion, I can't change history. This belated wisdom comes with it’s share of wrinkles; a bleak reminder of the fact that you can't go back to the place you came from, but you’ll keep visiting and revisiting it much like a ghost. You can, when you have memories. Memories that you can touch, hear, see, feel and experience in a way you never did when they were alive.

Thanks for the memories. All of them. Even the ones that died an early death.