Remember that crush from school? Of course you do. The one for whom you did so many silly things and were so sure that he or she will understand and appreciate your true and selfless love. Years pass and so does the pain of those heartbreaks of true loves. Yes plural. But still, even then whenever you come across that first one, there rises a void somewhere deep down, carved so beautifully and with so much dexterity as if it is the work of the finest craftsmen.
So what is this void? And with so many rules made by the people who probably never experienced it, is this unique creation of one’s childhood justifiable? It is like that pit trap made by poachers for elephants which can be very easily hidden by hay or grass. None but the Earth realizes the depth and might of the hole. We all cover the pit, and move on in our hunt, initially waiting, but soon forgetting about it in the prolonged absence of the unfortunate elephant and in the presence of plethora of wildlife.
A lot of imaginative thoughts come and go during this period. Maybe the elephant couldn’t have come because it was in a bigger trouble than us? What if the elephant knew about its co-ordinates all along and just used you (the poacher) for free food kept on the pit? Whatever the case maybe, the trap always grows deeper and deeper. You tell the jungle that there was never any pit, and even if it was, it is as full-house as Mumbai’s footpath. Only that it isn’t. And one day we accept. It cannot be.
The humming wind blows and whispers something in the ears of that hay and suddenly the whole hole is now lying in the ground. Naked. Open for all to see. You try desperate attempts to distract the unwanted seers. All in vain. You are judged, you are hurt, but most of all, you are confused. For all those years you convinced yourself that the jungle is much more than just an elephant-trap. For all those years you convinced the jungle that you are no less than an ideal poacher who hunts, sells, repeats. Then how in the world (jungle) can this huge blackhole be present here, sucking everything that tries to cover it into nothingness, you wonder.
I like to think that like a blackhole creates havoc in its surroundings, the universe as a whole is always unaffected by it. Similarly this void, like a distant supernova, erupts violently, regularly, but still can be easily accepted but can never be seen as a reality to the naked eyes of star-gazers.
It is something that reminds you of absence, a crucial ingredient in the synthesis of content and happiness. And eventually, a new star is always born at the place where once the blackhole had been. So who knows, while we are so engrossed in witnessing the rhythmic violent explosions, a new star might be forming; or beneath the displaced soil, a young tree might be sprouting. Who knows.