Hope is a beautiful thing. It tells you to expect the unexpected, to believe the implausible, to fly even when your feet are stuck in the dark mud of the pestilential agony and loss of worth. It is indeed one of the languages in which Gods at some end of this Universe speak to us in his sincere, grey and comforting tone.

To be agitated is a state which we all have so become habituated to. We believe that resilience will slowly spread its silken wings and descend on our parched souls, long lost in fits of despondency and contemplative and meticulously crafted pity.

I was spoken to today in many ways which are not only the most unusual but least expected. As fate and destiny are the instruments in the hand of invisible omnipresence, I won't delve on them much. I won't speak of instances which made my faith stronger and resolve impermeable. I won't saunter into the grey zone of my belief and phases of agnosticism. I won't speak of the tones in which I was comforted and assured. That all is kind of personal. Maybe all that I said here can be justified in the undermentioned lines from the Scraps of Bob Dylan. And then I shall get to writing what is meant to be written. A note of thanks and a heart of gratefulness.

The quote goes thus:-

"DESTINY is a feeling you have that you know something about yourself nobody else does. The picture you have in your own mind of what you're about WILL COME TRUE. It's a kind of a thing you kind of have to keep to your own self, because it's a fragile feeling, and you put it out there, then someone will kill it. It's best to keep that all inside."

So keeping inside what is supposed to lighten (Both in terms of pressure and transitive verb), and thanking God for his support and bringing to us what we need most at a particular stage, I shall speak of a phone conversation that not only uplifted me from the nooks of some creepy alley but also fed me with a music (hard rock) that was both deafening and enamouring at the same point.

It was 12:15 on a mountain town. Sitting aimlessly and hyperventilating over How I fared in a task I undertook and whether success is elusive, I had a strong urge to speak to my friend.

We spoke for two and a half hours rambling on stuff we both desire, seek and hope for. We spoke of tales of success, the persevarance and patience it demands, the need for focus and determination, the resolve of not being bent by the tsunamis of failure and non-activity.

We argued, we fought, we debated (even over our debating skills and who is better). We spoke in rowdy tones of uncouth hoodwinks, in tones of a sadness and depressions and in guffaws of laughter smirked across with innumerable smiles.

We spoke of how one year is less valuable than a life of frustration, how even 5 years is worth the wait for where we want to see ourselves and how the Universe shall be bent to fulfill our destined destinites. We were Alchemists conjuring every rare potion that could soothen our burns. We were optimists, we were victors, we were even the vanquished and the defeated.

In mid of this I remember one of the lines I read in Archies Comics. " What lies behind us and what lies before us are tiny matters compared to What lies within us".

Thus even in our frantic searches for answers, we could relate to the possibility of a perfect plate life is bound to serve as and when the time arrives and the destiny's bell is struck. I told you, we were optimists.

There is no good way to close something which has had such a deep and profound impact on you in such a short span. Maybe at times we know what is right and what is to be done. Maybe we have our paths charted out. But all that is required is a sense of reassurance to resurrect us from our own ashes. I found that flight in more than one ways yesterday and speaking strictly for this phone conversation, all I would like to say is:-


P.S My friend Ashwin Issac had a complaint that i am not being emotional on blog.