The word depicts much more than the typical oxford descriptions neither does it portray those “lost and found” incidences that the media fusses around. In real life nothing is found just substituted. What is lost is lost for ever!
Loses are that part of life which are inevitable as one walks through the path of mortality. Many a time we long or search for substitutes for what is lost and in between we might come across too, content with the new found joy, without realising the theory of life that things are meant to be unique and nothing can fit into a gap better than what was cut out.
Born with a cry………..
Anticipating the face of that angel who nourished; to fulfil her dreams just nine months old,
Just to encounter the mean faces and rough hands of a bunch of monotonously clad mask wearers. There begins the sense of “being lost” masked just by the warmth of mom’s hands, transient yet eternal………
Then he strides out of her embrace, putting steps one by one, hoping to fly away, explore and to cherish great summits. He pays his childish innocence, for his blind aimless endeavour, to be substituted by the mere feelings of self, power and greed.
The desire to become the man of Greek with bulging muscles, vigour and valour paves the way of teenage. Attracted by some mystic force unites a gang of lunatics, just to talk your insanity out. Life seems to blossom with its hues of seven. But what he doesn’t realise is that destinies never coincide. They diverge past and everyone has to tread their own paths.
As youth arrives and relations drift apart like the late wind of spring, he realises that the colours of his life has to fade. “Broken hearts”, “silly clashes”, “small bets” were better than the web woven walls of a cubicle with a heap of files, in the dusty corner of an office.
Life moves on….. Bringing forth strange faces to be his kith and kin, to chain him down, tuning him to the mechanics of a robot. Life takes on the rhyme of the big grandpa clock, slowly ticking past every second to roar, at last, the end.
The beautiful feathers of the angel’s wings start to fall off. The warmth replaced by the shiver and chill of senescence. And finally she will fall off like a heat struck leaf from the tree of life, to be swept away in the sands of time. He is now left alone to the greys of life and those hot and fresh drops rolling down can only soothe the ground but not the feeling of LOST…….