I wish there was nothing called change - GulfToday

I wish there was nothing called change

Shaadaab S. Bakht


Shaadaab S. Bakht, who worked for famous Indian dailies The Telegraph, The Pioneer, The Sentinel and wrote political commentaries for Tehelka.com, is Gulf Today’s Executive Editor.


Picture used for illustrative purpose only.

I, like most ordinary mortals, hate many things about life. One of them is its changing nature. The trigger for this discussion is the following page from my friend’s diary. It explains the invincible role change plays in our lives.

One thing is great about the place and that is you don’t get pretenders.

It started to drizzle. The rain kind of took away the heart from our meeting because we had planned to see each other on the manicured lawns of the cafe. We didn’t want to be within earshot of other customers in the famous restaurant in a city known more for frolic than anything else. Let’s forget about the name of the colourful town because I have great friends living there and I too love the place. One thing is great about the place and that is you don’t get pretenders. You don’t get so-called intellectuals, who watch didactic films, just to talk about them.

Coming back to the meeting. It had to take place inside the cafe. The much-needed advantages of seclusion and the occasional cold breeze revving up the free-play of emotions were lost. However, despite the formal setting feelings were willingly allowed the liberty of travelling beyond conventional barriers. No, they didn’t become lusty. They appeared like an ode to an ethereal bondage.

The smile swaggered out of her placid eyes, then decided to trudge in symphonic strides till it reached her superbly sculpted mouth, which clearly appeared to have never been subjected to carnal adventurism.

I can feel a certain wobbliness where steadfastness was the norm, passion is fast losing out to the pressures of daily needs.
Arguments over little issues have become a daily routine. We don’t know where we are going wrong, but one thing is certain that things are not normal. We are standing on the same floor, but on opposite sides. We are trying hard to reconcile, but I feel the human heart is like a mountain. No matter what we do, we can never move it once it takes a position.

We walk out of what used to be our home in search of emotional peace, whose quest had sealed our dreams. We can see what has changed is not the world, but our world. We take the same road, but different paths.

I have been thinking about the collapse every hour, but get no convincing answers. What could we have done to rescue the relationship? I keep asking myself.

It would have been fantastic if vibrant life remained constant and happiness its immortal consort, if the sun rose and its brightness played its eternal slave, if the pleasant breeze played their neighbour and banished the heat away and if the rain fell perennially and kept our desires flowing forever.  

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