Infinite in the Ephemeral

Yes, it is about love, all about love. What else can I write about? What else brings joy to my heart at this very moment? What else conjures meaning, and adds a little, tiny speck of hope to my life? What else, what more than watching two people in love, fighting for each other and having each other's back, paving their paths and piecing their lives together? Ah, this moment, where love is not a contract to be enforced or a sin to be abhorred, but a dream to be dreamt, and a dance to be danced. It is beautiful, it is poetic, it is simple, it is majestic. It’s just people in love. It’s their stories—stories of how they are transformed by it, given a choice by life itself: a choice to elevate oneself and the other and transcend; a chance to learn belief, faith, trust, support, failure, and forgiveness and to relearn if necessary. If possible.

Love is a game of chance. It’s a gamble. And not at all for the lighthearted. It takes tremendous force of courage in one’s heart to acknowledge love within oneself. It takes even more—a leap of blind, audacious faith—to express it to another. And only the one with a warrior's heart can take this leap, for he alone can rise again if the cupid's arrow turns out to be a poison dart. Only then, can he gather the shattered pieces of his heart, understand the emotion with a deeper awareness, forgive, be grateful and find peace in what remains. 

Love gives us our name—or rather, it adds meaning to it. Names are sacred and important to an individual as these strange combinations of letters tether us to this earth and its exceptionally frail and fickle realities. Names anchor us to each other, so that we may not drift afar, stray into those estranged corners of our hearts and wall up, or be lost forever. When we call a name, infused with the tenderness of our passion, of our love, then that is enough, the depth that it resonates is enough for the beloved to wake up and find the way back. But this requires one to exorcise love out of the mind, the brain and its constant computations. 

An analytical mind might reject love as irrational, a fleeting indulgence unworthy of serious consideration. Because an analytic mind will only attempt to dissect this experience, if the experience does not satisfy all the hypotheses set by society, the peer groups, the literature, the media, mediocrity and whatnot, the mind will reject it, and cast the feeling out as irrational, reducing it to chemical combinations and reactions. But what about its vitality? What about that undeniable charge that wells up deep in one's heart and soul? What about the sheer weight of optimism that one most certainly feels, even when faced with the gravest of odds, while being in love? What ignites that certainty? What inspires that incessant spirit to push forth, hold fast, and hold true? Can it be computed, or assessed by objective measures? Can it even be understood or defined by any metrics? This is a mirror set against one's soul. The image it reflects is incorruptible. One must face it, and witness how easy it is for mountains to crumble, the earth to shatter, rivers to run dry and the oceans to die. And yet, we continue to build our sandcastles, enthroning, enshrining, or even incarcerating our love. How simple we truly are! 

Love. An emotion so absolute, unique, pristine, universal, and terribly obvious in its nature. Yet, it is the same that is arbitrary, familiar, sullied, particular and profoundly enigmatic. In this sense, it resonates with the nature of life itself. An extension of it even. Two forces, entwined for eternity. Lucky are those who have found this earthly tether of eternity. Luckier still are those who understand it.  

Love, then, is life’s most daring challenge—a call to rise above our fears and step into the unknown. A challenge set by life and time to reveal what we truly are. It is both a whisper and a roar, a melody that demands courage and yet soothes the soul. It nudges us to bravery all the while lulling us to the brink of insanity. It pushes us to the edge of reason, daring us to let go of control, embrace the chaos of vulnerability, and find beauty in imperfection. But, isn't that the occupational hazard that makes life worth living? Love doesn’t promise certainty; it offers something greater—the endless possibility of becoming. It is not a contract sealed with guarantees but a gift wrapped in fleeting, fragile moments that shimmer with eternity. I cannot promise you forever, because this moment is barely all we truly have. But I can promise this: as long as my heart beats, it will search for eternity in every moment we share. The possibility of a forever and beyond—a chance to weave the infinite into the ephemeral, to etch meaning into the fragile fabric of now. Life’s rarest and most precious offering. And isn’t that enough? Isn’t that everything?

- Harishna   (25/01/2025)

Farewell 2024

How should I say goodbye to 2024 when I know that it's only the calendar that turns? A mathematical and astronomical concoction of convenience designed to ensure that the wheels kept turning and churning through the leftovers of our lives. 

The year-end reflection is always quite an adventure, as it almost often involves navigating through half-forgotten labyrinths, excavating buried doors, and prying them open, invariably causing a torrent of memories and emotions to rush out from the deepest pits from everything and from everywhere. And it's an unforgiving experience most of the time. Having to live through the agony or ecstasy, or all at once, again, once more, knowing all that remains remains forever.

One door I accidentally crashed into this time was almost 6 years old, or more, I am not sure anymore. And it reminded me of the evening when I realised how invisible I truly was to what I thought to be my silly little world back then. As I listened to peers recollecting fond memories of friendship, love, and togetherness, I witnessed my absolute absence in their memories and how oblivious my existence was. After all, in the memories of those we hold dear, it is there that we truly survive. And what happens to the one, invisible and forgotten? It's a curious old door, and now it's sealed with a sigh. Like many before. For good. 

And then I saw many other doors. In some places, I wondered, what remains at the ruin of dreams? All artfully conjured images, masterly woven stories, and meticulously crafted sequences of desires, passions and hopes. And now, where do they rest? Rejected, ignored, and lost to time. Somewhere else, there was grief, pain, doubt, anger, rage and the crippling suffering that it offers. Waiting to pull me in. Consume me with all its might. And the pull is strong, the lull is lethal. The futility of holding on. But is it worth it? Is it worth the torment? 

Nonetheless, it's always about the lessons, isn't it? It's always about finding the light at the end of that damn cliched tunnel. More than finding; I take, it's always about the search for that light. It's the desperate scavenger hunt of one who cannot find his own light. And I think that’s ok. Because we are, after all, frail little humans, and not all will have the strength to pull themselves together, all the time. Sometimes, it makes sense to reach out to the light of others. Just be careful not to snuff it out, that’s all. 

The skies that once shone bright now remain eclipsed and charred. The moonlit night has now become a distant memory destined to fade out, and the dream of the one beautiful dawn remains an impossible, reluctant dream. And at times like these, the only choice is to make peace with what is. And perhaps find the courage to resume that search for light, the light that is flickering and conditional. Occasional impressions on the canvas of one eternal darkness. 

Isn’t that what this game is in its truth? Aren’t we all clamouring for this light, or this idea of a light, that is flickering and conditional? Isn’t this very conditionality that gives meaning and life to this light? Transforming it from something that could be mundane to something exotic, profound and worth fighting for. This possibility of basking in it, or breathing it in at least once in a lifetime. Isn’t that what we all yearn for? 

Well, now I must bid adieu to this calendar year forever. Another bookmark to be buried deep in the pages of our many tales. Farewell 2024, you’ve been kind, and also you’ve tested my patience and strength to its limits. But despite all, I choose to be grateful, for the reinforced lessons, experiences, and guidance. And for the new cycle, I wish I could find the courage to love myself so that I may finally find my light, and forgive myself so that I may not end up being the moron who snuffs it out. And that’s all for the new chapter. Love and forgiveness. Courage and tenderness. Strength and kindness. 

May the force be with us all. 

-Harishna M U

01/01/2025