Thursday, February 09, 2006


We all have our own realities, our realities which we create by using our faculties of imagination. A picture we paint with our favorite hues. With clear skies and white birds fluttering in the limitless expanse of blue and green fields teased by the warm air. We like to call it picture perfect i.e. a reality we like to dwell in and a world where we create life and position our soul. A pristine view where everything is monitored by us. The control of monitoring perfection lies in our hands because we have created this world with our hands and make it reside in our minds.

We live in this world much our lives. With every passing moment of our lives we try to fit all instances, big or small in this reality .We mould these instances according to the overall picture we have created.

Slowly and steadily, with every passing day of our existence, we start getting consumed by this image. This fictitious image which we call our own reality starts overpowering us. The balance of creation and the creator is altered. The creation by deriving all the power from the creator starts controlling the creator. It starts dominating the hand that painted it. The image dictates what is applicable to the painting and the creative freedom of the creator starts losing ground.

The reality which we created blinds us and separates us from the world outside. It becomes like the fortress where our soul resides as a hostage. We begin to believe what we have created and the world outside get blurred. We feel that our creation is the truest form of existence and the world outside is just a cosmic conspiracy.

A perfect example of inversed roles. The reality which was created as a figment of imagination supersedes the outside existent world. But then the storm strike, the calm tranquility of the picturesque reality is hit by the choppy waters of time. It lashes out the walls of the fortress and the water gushes in ands washes out every bit of the creation. The outside world reacts to make inroads into the fictitious reality and everything crumbles down like a pack of cards.

The rosy picture is spoilt and the soul that resided in the picture is left like a forlorn child after a war. The soul is left gaping wide at the havoc wrecked by the harsh world. And we are jolted with the fact that the reality which we created for ourselves was nothing but a make believe image. In the course of time the creator got so obsessed with his art work that he forgot that it is just a masterpiece and is not reality itself. It is just a depiction of the same.

Many a times in life we create numerous such images which we start believing in as realities of our existence. May be we are at odds with the world outside that instigates us to create these images and because they are opposed to what is existent, makes us have faith in them. But seldom do we realize that this act of creation is making us digress from the reality furthermore.

A concoction of the mind which we choose to call reality is nothing but a myth.

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