Nothing Waits For Nothing

Prafulla Kumar Mohanty

Dawn! What dawn? The dawn of a new age delivered by the womb of time? Or a routine pre- sunrise glow reddening the east like the lubricating blood making birth a slippery tale of painful beginning? How do I bother! And why should I? Does the sun wait for my moony night to linger my passions on my love’s arms? Does anything wait for anything? The earthquake does not wait for the city to evacuate forewarned. The petals don’t wait for the stroll of the princess into the garden to smile at her in full splendour. Life does not wait for death, death for life. Time is such an unseen song which moves unheard from one beat to another like juxtaposing the east and west for shock effect- you may call contrastive melody. The day does not wait till you close your accounts, write your will or to buy a kg of rice for your starving family. The wife does not wait for her husband to return exhausted, the husband does not wait for his wife’s return from the club. The ball does wait for the fitness of the leg, nor does it wait for the referee’s whistle to enter the post.

Why then people wait for things? They wait for results, wait for holidays to start, for the rain to stop , for promotions to come before time, for the doctor to cut your tummy to remove the gall bladder. Why? When things happen like the motiveless malignity of a villain to work on his machinations to strike when you are not alert or ready or aware - well go on doing what your mind wills you to do. And there is the rub. The mind hesitates. Measures the pros and cons, weighs, calculates and often gives up.

Never wait for things: if you can seize upon the moment and bend it to do your bidding to say it is never possible. Yes- life is meant to make the impossible possible, to play with sun and moon in the park of your own making. We know, we are not welcome here; there is no band waiting for us. Nature laughs, cries, invites, ignores, grows calm like the fallen dew but creates the illusion of pearls: we must create our own nature to enlarge the given territory of life. God’s little acre should be your own vast kingdom. Build your own gold palace. Carve out your own destiny. Your own river of sorrow, your own ocean of happiness. What is happiness you may ask? Well, it is only a chemical equilibrium in the body which gives you a state of well being. It may be irrational like my friend saying I love the world for its grapes, for the lobsters. You create your favorites, your fruit Friday, your love sonnets. Ride on the wings of butterflies- if they cannot hold your weight create strong sturdy butterflies more colorful with exotic colours. Create your music, however, cacophonous they may be. Sing and dance for if you don’t the eyes will be moist when your love does not respond; if she ignore your cooing calls, if she does not keep  the dinner date or repulses your advanced lips- your eyes will stream down wetting your face and drowning your heart in the Red sea. Create your own love; give her the beauty of your own imagination, fly in the sky like skylords. Life offers nothing. You come crying and go without the senses functioning or obeying your commands.

You come for a brief moment, make it long, never ending. Never wait for anything because it’s a waste of your given moment. Make your life a dream.  Live in dreams, love in dreams, 

work dreamlike without asking Freuds the rationale behind what and why of your dreams. You create your dreams and spend the given moments as if you hold time in the hollow of your palm. Spend the moment like an Emperor ordering his reality for posterity to remember. If the future generations laugh at your Taj Mahal doesn’t matter. At least you have made them react to your deeds. Live, dream and die a dream death without waiting for anything to happen. Things happen for their own needs. You make your needs happen even though the dream happenings are not palpable. But do and dream and live every moment.