Back in the fall of 2011, the master of destiny, the writer of nature’s will, the karma of past deeds, started penning things for me in the book which was meant to be re-read, bottled up and memorised, like a gospel.
I was about to reach the climax and then it fell from my hands while I was standing and looking at the world from quite a few feet above. The pages jumbled, some got torn, some burnt and a lot of them got scratched and bruised the way my heart got while I saw it all getting scattered.Yes, I was the control freak.
I picked it up, took a quick glance and suddenly the jumbled factual made sense. The plans were unwritten now, everything needed to be written again and sorted out and I felt indecisive but it made sense.
It made sense in the way my head got clear and the job of destiny’s writer saw a sudden shift to my own hands.
What I could have written? My way of using a dictionary was only limited to searching the meaning of given words.
So what I did? I tried to search for the meaning of life. Dictionary had it and the ex-master of destiny knew it but I wanted to set up my own ministry of meanings where subjectivity was only in happiness.
So here I am, burning the book, writing only verses now, unconnected, no-strings-attached. I am the will, I am the destiny.
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