The Symbols of My Life

 

  On the ordered maze  of blacks and whites the poor pawn struggled through the squares of life with each step learning how dispensable she was. She realized painfully how her death before anyone else's would be the choice of those who were mightier than her. When die one by one her fellow sisters she saw the poor pawn cried for soon, it would be her turn. But she was special she did not know. For in her destiny it was to reach the end and be crowned the Queen.

If thou art rich thou'rt poor, For like an ass whose back with ingots bows Thou bear'st thy heavy riches but a journey And death unloads thee. So tells the Duke to Claudio while preparing the latter to face death, in Shakespeare's Measure for Measure. The great philosophical truth of the futility of accumulating riches was, no doubt, understood well by Shakespeare and exquisitely expressed by him in the above words. But a few facts of his life speak otherwise.  The greatest legend of English Literature left his family in Stratford-Upon-Avon in order to join a company of actors as a playwright and performer in London. Do you think that it was solely done to earn a living? Had it nothing to do with fame and riches? He bought the New Place , one of Stratford's most prominent homes, when he was just seven years old in his literary career. Why? Couldn't he have lived in a humble abode? Wouldn't this "prominent home" of his be unlo

when hope was bidding goodbye, when longing threatened to devour me, to steal my soul, i read those words, a poet's... i felt them, heard them in a distant voice so painfully familiar... the voice I once breathed, my life... they struck my heart, piercing it, unleashing the blood of pain, completing the mystical sacrifice... just then, those words, his words, like sparks of fire, ignited me, burned me to ashes, resurrected me... in words We became One and I was born again. (The images DO NOT belong to me. They have been taken from Google images.)

Sitting down straight, with a pen held firmly  in her hand, she begins her perilous journey into the dark corners of her mind, to reveal  herself and to wring out those words that have  been lingering in her thoughts for years and years. Before she can jot down that first letter onto  a thin sheet of paper full of battle-marks,  a huge drop of tear collides with her will and  orders her to retreat if she wants to save herself. Being no weakling, she moves ahead, struggling  past illusions, the dread of failure, and the reasoning of her ego, to complete in ink the first letter. The mind is the most cunning and brutal opponent, she had no doubts. In the journey to the next word,  it turns her own will from ally to foe, and  strangles her resolve to complete the journey. Injured and with little life left in her, she waits, not knowing which way to choose- Retreat?  Or move ahead? Moving ahead meant facing  the birth of one and the death of everything else

How well do you read people? There were times when I used to be proud of my ability to understand people easily. Often I tried to read the different layers of meaning that make up a person and what they say or do, by analyzing their expressions, the way they used words and gestures, and how they reacted to particular situations. Their dressing, tastes and the choices that they made were other important clues. Let me tell you, it made me feel really powerful and I loved understanding people in ways many around me "did not care to" ( I wouldn't say "couldn't do", because I think anyone can do it given they are interested enough.). Now, there's no saying whether I understood them correctly or not, but many have felt that I knew about them more than others did, which pointed to the fact that I was not too far from the right interpretations. Many also started sharing their problems with me because they felt that I already knew a lot about th