"What we call the beginning is often the end. And to make an end is to make a beginning. The end is where we start from." - T. S. Eliot The elements that had given shape to my life and to which I had committed my all seem insignificant now. Everything around appears so fragile including relationships. Things change, people leave. With the passage of time everything that made sense in the past seem derisory in their present form. Life's contrariness beguiles me. As I attempt to make sense in repose, the only thing that strikes me is that there is something wrong with reality. Is this an irreversible phenomenon? Today, I have reached a point where I question everything. I seek answers and I seek them aggressively. Eventually, life has to make sense. Things have to fall in place. That's what I am told..!! I definitely cannot reach the end of my existential rope in this note without knowing the calling of my life. But, to do so, the only rec
... feelings, thoughts, realization ...