The circus called LIFE.

I often wonder, which is often the mora vidium of a mind at recess, that how aptness of certain colloquial proverbs excel ‘excellence’ itself. It is said that, ‘public memory is very short’. I was wondering on how the motion of vitality flows ceaseless through the seeming unending expanse of time. People come, people go; and so do geniuses. We forget the most, we remember a few, and that too not without reason- we remember Edison because his name mocks us from the streetlights to encroach on our personal bedroom night lamp- see, Not without reason.

                     How many names can you come up with when you are asked for socially working leaders? I doubt that many of us even care?

A creative soul passes away; people shower tears and ‘RIP’ messages galore in social working sites, spontaneously under the action of momentary remembro-consciousness, and go to sleep to wake up next day to be ready for office. Condolences vanish faster than camphor in the gargantuan realm of urban struggle. True indeed, that we cannot possibly loose our job and end up getting condolences ourselves by mourning for a bygone artist. Thus the bread of the day becomes,’ Let bygones be bygones.’

We have to compete in order to keep from perishing ourselves. Thus as a obvious result the ‘mortal’ loss of a intellectual although starts off a wave, but, nonetheless ends in ripples. Maxim Gorky understood this herd “forgettance”, and thus said, “Live for yourself, work for your pleasure; life is circus and you have to change camp sooner or later”.