Hope Floats

Sometimes It appears to me that life has come to a momentarily standstill. Last five years have been so akin. The visages around may have altered but the similar milieu of mayhem prevails. They say ‘All it takes to win is a well organized solicitous mind’, but in my case disorder seems to be the order of the day. Nothing is at its place; a whole pandemonium is sensed in every sphere of life. Perplexed in all this mayhem yet fanatically desperate to win I try to nourish my plummeted desires, dreaming exotic tryst with destiny. Yes, I do believe everyone has a destiny. A divine providence which steers us all and anyone can arrive at what is destined to them provided they appreciate their fate before time plays it decisive character. The moment time outshines its limitation the destiny becomes the master.

A good number of stuffs in my case have gone really bad. I blame it to myself as it was always me who finally makes the choices. It is me who chooses my pals, my dreams and my path; so it has to be me who am to be interrogated. May be I was so sluggish that the itinerary seemed so demanding. Or may be the mark which I have set for myself is not an ordinary one. Nevertheless still hope floats, somewhere but where exactly I am not convinced about. Tenaciously I search for it in my gloomy heart, which in itself holds myriad paradoxical desires conflicting sporadically. But I know I will find its whereabouts. My conjecture at this point is may be this little hope is the one which provides me my oomph of life. But to quote Morgan Freeman from The Shawshank Redemption, 'Hope is a dangerous thing my friend.'