It all started because of the simple questions. I am just a boy, asking a girl… (maybe, it was the other way round) or something like that. While Notting Hill is not a word, it does come to mind, when we think of love. The movie is all mush, but we do have to think of love. Perhaps, it’s one of the few words that’s different in so many languages. Pyaar in Hindi, Ishq in Urdu, Love in English, Prem in most Indian languages, and other variety of words in other languages. Very unlike the word for Mother. The A sound and/or the M sound are common when it comes to the word for mother. Love sounds very different however. In that sense, languages are random. Sorry, for what might seem like an asinine rant.
I had to seek the foundation for this post from others; not because I am intransigent about what gets published on this blog, but I had to break the walls of my castle: that which allowed me to procrastinate posting and publishing. Because unless I’d allow myself something of a pull, to where I belong — I’d soon succumb to the dark side — like Vader. That’s some food for thought.
But we strive. And with the tiniest of a success – there’s a sense of WOW! The post becomes real. There are real words that are the nodes for real thoughts — and Kaboom! — there is that ballet, the dance of an expression. That tiny box that our world otherwise is, has now become a universe of determination.
PS: I sought words from my friends and challenged myself to weave them within 30 minutes. Feel free to tell me that I should not attempt such experiments in the future.