The Woman called Life

Life, is like a woman. A woman who likes to be wooed. A woman who likes to fool around sometimes and be a grumpy vamp giving a hard time to everyone around her. Sometimes she offers a relationship advice and the very next day seeks one because she is teething. In the morning she asks me to buckle up as we are going to win the world and by the evening she asks me to pack my bags because we are going to be off for the Himalayas till further notice.

She is beautiful, she is innocent and instructs me to believe in ‘not believing’. And I wouldn’t dare call her ‘unpredictable’, because that would be downplaying the power of the wand called Karma, that she scratches her back with. 

And, while I handle this hour-glass bodily-shaped and heart- made woman, I have only one task-- to appreciate her without ever daring to imagine to control her. 

Currently, this woman called Life in my life, is undergoing menopause. She is always irritated on everything you tell her to do. You take permission to be happy and she’ll make sure you are screwed. You secretly try focusing on something, she’ll put her heart and soul to make sure to rock your world. And you dare meekly hint on demanding a thing and she will show you the angry-Hulk side of hers. And you dare demand a justification, and she will show you what you deserve.

In between this paradox of action and reaction, I realized that the more I wanted something, she would keep it at bay until I didn’t want it. And the minute I dropped it, she would mysteriously put it in my pocket. The more I surrendered, the more she wanted me to desire. The more I withdrew, the more she would cause me to get involved. She would push me to oceans with tornados while she knew I couldn’t swim and when I’d be gasping with salty water inside my lungs, she would be standing at the beach with a beer-bottle in her hand, cheering me up to join her.

She secretly loves me because she openly hates me. 


The more I know of her, the less I do.

This woman...called Life..