There is a small, beautiful, golden glazed, ornamental light fitting that unassumingly adorns the wall of my bedroom. It has been there since the day we moved in here fifteen years back. I remember gazing at the sheer, sufficing beauty of the masterpiece when I first saw it, for it seemed to exude the sort of charisma that a rare piece of art born out of the dexterous work of a gifted artist could bear. The inevitable charm had insinuated through the dilated peep holes of my eyes, deeper into the velvety pockets of my soul, spreading out to fill them, to enrich them.
But today, as I pause to ruminate, a question disturbs me deep and true. Why hadn’t the piece of sheer beauty evoked aforesaid emotions in me for longer, precisely to this day?
Worse yet, why did my eyes fail to register the presence of it all these years? Was it because I was busy growing up? Or was it because it had lost its lustre?
Somewhere, someday, the delectable mote in me that sprang up in excitement at the mere sight of the slightest hue of beauty, inconspicuously, started to slide closer to the verge of endangerment. They rarely enticed the adult in me, the reason for which is vague and not quite fathomable in its truest sense even at this moment.
Nevertheless now, as I stand admiring the art that stands erect in the most formidable point of my room, yet in an unfortunately secluded corner of my mind, I find myself being guided to the damped albeit soulful beauty of the long forgotten pathway to my past- my childhood. I feel fresh surge of bliss rushing through me. It evokes, at this moment, nostalgia like no other monument can or has. The embellished lighting, the little chunk of heaven which proudly carries the weight of an epiphany is, more than anything, an apt and impeccable reminder of the simple joys and subtler intrigues of the unscarred and pristine child in me.
Coming to think of it, isn’t it unfortunate that we fail to appreciate the beauty of all those unavoidable ingredients of our past – soul stirring events, obsessive inanimate objects, life changing incidents, and last but not the least, people who kindled sparks of change in us, people who made us what we are today, who, unknowingly or not are intricately linked to us for the rest of our lives- unless and until a day arrives when the blazing dusty flames of the same are thrown onto us once again out of the blue? What would happen then? Wouldn’t we be overwhelmed then? Would we survive the stupendous vortex of emotions that barge in on us that imminent day? How would we react? Would we smile? Or would we cry? Or would we be insensitive enough to ignore it and move on as if the trails we treaded could do nothing more for the supposedly proud and egoistic us even if we took time and try to dwell in those once again out of gratefulness?
More importantly, wouldn’t we agree, without thinking twice, with the vacuum of our hearts for once filled with utmost fervour, to be flung back to the depths of those memories a second time, to live, love, laugh, obsess, amaze and be amazed all over again?
P.S: This post is tagged with ‘Mid Week Quests’, a sub section of this blog where I write on a Wednesday, about random nuggets from my life .