Disconnected, as always.

Pondered upon while servers start up, machines hum and bugs are written, in my small, creative harbor - my office space. Two bogeys trailing lazily at the end of the track, all but hidden in the dense smoke coughed up by my train of thoughts. Of selflessness and whimsy, as disconnected as before...

I cannot even begin a sentence without a personal pronoun and paradoxically, I talk about selflessness. Today, a selfless act made me happy. An act, which by its very nature, cannot have a whisper of selfishness associated with it, Adoption. A father of two has adopted a child and that makes me happy. I envy his selflessness and I wish I could be noble enough to emulate. I think the tears blurring Meena's eyes, in Rhythm, when she hears his reasons for adoption, are very meaningful tears, tears that would sanctify the ground they touch, just because the one reason, for which they appeared, is so distinguished. How many of us can find altruism in us, sufficient to lighten the iron hold of manacles made of our own blood? How many of us can find the strength in us to love another as our own, to provide for another's child as our own and to lay our lives down for another's? I bow down to you, for you are like me and yet your thinking is so much higher than mine.

One bogey has chugged along to be replaced by its apparent twin, as different from it, as can be. Call me crazy, call me maudlin, I prefer to name it my Whimsy.

My whimsy, of many forms, many moods and many manifestations - my imagination - delightful at times, irrational most times. When I meet someone and start interacting with them socially, casually, I am suddenly usurped by my imagination, I find myself riding with it and it takes me years ahead of where I stand now. I imagine life, if I were to live it in close proximity of these people, as a friend, sharing stories of "those were the days...", laughing at our ancient crushes, discussing philosophy, complaining about our spouses - or to put it more clearly, I visualize us, sitting on the front porch of my house, laughing at ourselves, sometimes just being comfortable in the silence, watching the now familiar, white strands of his hair reflecting, not only the sunlight of many years but also wisdom that comes only with age. I imagine waiting anxiously just as she is waiting, for our kids to return from their excursion, I see myself discussing family life and inlaws with her. For an all-encompassing moment, I am not me in the present but I am his faithful friend, her confidante of many years and I see life many years from now, enriched by his company, stable in her support...

And then I am brought back to the present, by a quick laugh, by a question posed to me, louder, a second time, by someone gently tapping me on my shoulder and I know I am yet to be this person's closest friend, I am still just the acquaintance and not the soul mate. But, I can't help but wonder, how life would be if I were to be much more to him than just what I am now?

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