Knowing you begins ...

I have always been fascinated by the wisdom which the elderly grey haired men passed on to our very young, vibrant generation. My journey in knowing you begins here with one such seed of wisdom. Someone said in order to catch a lion, tame it, you start with its tail. “I am never everything but also never something … sometimes …” If anyone attempted to decipher the meaning of these mystery words on a grain, I am sure every read would given them meaning a many. But somehow since it’s an answer some kind, to seeds which I have sown, I need to do more than just know.

At the onset I have a confession to make, my read seemed to have opinionated that I am something close to complete or maybe even otherwise. But all I can say I am really not, like everyone I seek completeness, like everyone I seek answers, like for everyone an opportunity exist I do and like everyone that’s something, I can never be. I am only a learning curve, sometimes, sometimes not, but always. I respect my limitations and others alike.

“What are you?” I am somehow happy with my creation. I knew for certain that, you would weave an ocean of answers in questions. Just the same way, you would only be silent about the shoes that you are wearing, but never like to wear, more so in silence and more so in ambush. I typed “Who are you?” Then again that’s what I wanted to know and what you would take time to say. Now that I have listened to what you had to say, do you think it’s time to ask the right questions?

In your words have I only sought you, if not? Maybe your questions are my answers. You are a book that has meaning, but approve only of reading. You are more colourful than the rainbow; you have more sounds than the symphony, yet you know not you. More scarce your words, more mystery you confirm. Is that where you like to be? Is it time for a change yet?

In Pleasure is gratification and happiness is Nirvana. What pleasure would they seek in feeling complicated? What in brooding? What in finding pain? What pleasure would they find in considering suicide? What pleasure in entertaining negative thoughts? What pleasure in confessing sins? What in admiring sinful thoughts? What pleasure can forgetting the once important in life give? What pleasure is there in never letting go? You know not what you give, yet give? Is that what they seek? They feel? Is that what I seek? What Is that you give, what is that you seek?

I know very little. I know of a pleasant voice cracking up on the fm. I know of origins in gods own country. I know of a peacock waiting for its rain. I know you like coffee. I believe you like pink. I believe you have a great sense of smell. I know you like chocolate cakes. Do you like a ride on a bike? Do you read Tagore? I know of 24 days and 17 hours. There are more questions than answers. I know there is more than what I know. I know there is more than what I have felt. Is it all that you wanted to tell me? Is it yet time to ask the right questions?