Tis odd. People in my landscape are leaving or planning to. I’m not that close to all of them but I still feel that lump in the throat. The prospect or the fact of my close ones going probably makes the lump sharper.
Have done it all before. School, College, Kottayam, Bangalore, London; people have left and I have too. And everytime the yearn. Can’t things just be?
Catch up soon
How are you?
Must meet sometime
Let’s have lunch someday
Keep in touch
Can you take the rubbish out?
These words are the background noise of our urban lives. The postmodern and the nihilist would love the meaningless nature of these words. I’m seeing the hell of dehumanisation closer than ever.
But someone once said:
As the rain and the snow
come down from heaven,
and do not return to it
without watering the earth
and making it bud and flourish,
so that it yields seed for the sower and bread for the eater,
so is my word that goes out from my mouth:
It will not return to me empty,
but will accomplish what I desire
and achieve the purpose for which I sent it.