D-Day in Delhi

My last post for a while from the comforts of this home... All that is left here are a few of my memories, some photographs, some paintings and some poems...
All set...raring to go...revving up the engine...grrrrr!

flicking the pages of life

“maybe we’re always strangers…to ourselves the most…and to be reassured of our solitary existence is the only comfort that others can give....”
Puts a real twist into looking for that one person to be with…one person who’ll be there, who’ll love and be loved, who’ll care and be cared for, who’ll be woken up to. Where does one go from something like that? Where do all the dead relationships go? What of the ones in which one is now dead or dying? And what about Mira who loved Krishna who lived five thousand years before her?

I’ve pondered long enough on this… All I find is that I am exactly where I was before. I am still me, albeit changed by everyone I’ve been with, however long or short the duration. That brings me to another point: were they the ones who sought a different life? Did I not choose the same? If fate is something real then the parting was destined. Then did I not in some form (conscious, subconscious or unconscious) desire that separation, even at the very beginning?

Am I just ambling through the designs of life already pre-determined, destined and karmic? Or am I making a choice? Is this really MY life?