Often wondered what symbolic really means.
Today it meant listening to Drops of Jupiter by Train while sailing over the Arabian Sea in the CST-Belapur local.
Three days of petty and resolute veil of Mag's absence finally lifted a tad when crossing the Vashi bridge.
PG Wodehouse, wind in my hair, orange lights dancing in the water, throat still tingling with Kappi Nirvana and hot cookies and blessed music in my ears. Life is not that bad I realize.
As I gazed dreamily at the water currents and Palm Beach Road's fairy lights twinkled happily at me I gave myself over to the feeling that stole over, an emotion that we stupefyingly try to resist with all our might. To be contented with my lot. To live in the moment. To smile over the sadness.
The things that make you happy in this world, are more often than not unexpected and overlooked. I looked and therefore found it. I hope not to lose it.
PS: After a spell-check this post sounds alarmingly like Sharan's. I assure you it is an original and there is no plagiarism involved whatsoever.
Although the above statement mystifies me. Why should it be Sharan's. Can't my life be magical once in a while. How is her's always so lyrically idyllic?
The Identity of Indiscernibles
2 months ago