from the Crow's Nest ...



Reporting live, Crow's Nest gives you an overview of what's happening in and around our space of life. While you bask in your new found glory, while you lie complacent on your couch, Crow's Nest will act your third eye -- opening up views you thought it never existed !!!

Bon Voyage !!!



That thing called Love ...

There are many relations. Relation that brings smile to your face. Relation that brings tears to your eyes. Of joys. Of pains. Relation that makes you jump in unanticipated pleasures. Relation that makes you turn back when you find you are riding the cycle alone. Relation that make you run down from the school bus till your porch. Relation that makes you gape in awe when you find a sudden chocolate in that cupboard. Relation where every tomorrow is a celebration, every today is a present. Relation where every past is either dead or colorful. Relation that will toss you up in the air. Relation that will catch you mid-air. Relation that is tomorrow’s morning-dew. Relation that is as stale as yesterday’s overflowing dustbin.

There are many realities. Realities that can make you, break you, shake you. Realities that can churn you, turn you, burn you. Realities that stink. Realities that smell delicious. Realities that push. Realities that pull. Realities that pounce upon you. Realities that catch you from the back. Realities that talk back to you. Realities that taunt you. Realities that haunt you.

And in between the two, in between all the relations and the realities, are all the abstract nouns – love, trust, honesty, respect et al.

And there are all the laughters and all the silence.

To be forlorn in love is to be a point perpetually at the centre of a circle. However much things may appear to change – the reality may change from a back-stabbing to back-thumping one, the relations may change from overwhelmingly puritan to painstakingly placid – the geometry never changes. Your gaze is always a radius. The circumference is ever great. In fact, the circles multiply. To be a forlorn in love is to be caught in a harrowing ballet of circles. You are at the centre of one circle, while above you, two opposing circles spin about.

The crowd around you love you, hate you, lure, socialize with you, empathize with you, sympathize with you yet you fail to come up with a solution that is endearing and long-term.

The closest circles of near and dear ones will silently remind you of solitude; you open your eyes wide to escape your loneliness. When you look up, you sometimes wonder at the centre of a solar storm, if in the middle of a Sea of Tranquility, there isn’t another one like you also looking up, also trapped by geometry, also struggling with reality, relation, trust, honesty, disgrace, last of all – love or rather, search of it !!!



(Chapter 78, Life of Pi, Yann Martel ... the entire chapter inspired me to come up with this article. His description of a castaway fits the bill of a lovelorn, perfectly ... well, perfect or not will be decided by you. Feel free to drop in with your views and suggestions. Happy reading !!)