You know I was thinking to write something about beauty today. To my greatest surprise, I wasn’t able to “judge” what beauty is! Trying to write about real beauty, when you don’t know what beauty is in the first place, is actually something dumb. There were a few things that I could associate with beauty; like mother’s love, selfless and tender and white in colour. It is beautiful. Or a walk in dark as the night sky is illuminated by a million stars, without caring of what was back home or what you have to do tomorrow, when you actually live that moment and look at the stillness of moon. This ,surely, would be beautiful. How about sitting ashore a long lonely stretch of coastline, watching the sun dip behind waves, with orange sky and red horizons, as the sea sings you a constant tune and steady hush. How would it feel to reduce the tempo of your thoughts to the rhythm of hushhhhh…Beautiful. What about being a three year old as you see you daddy bring home ice cream. Even more beautiful. How about watching your three year old eat the ice cream you bought? How about finding the girl who just teased me and went away that day? I would get me mad, beautiful. How about sitting in garden early morning as you watch the bees collecting nectar from you flowers, and you let them steal it without slightest of reconsideration, without a phone or a reminder to disturb you, so you could just sit and ponder upon what beauty was. How about revisiting the time you first touched a girl? Feel again what you felt when lips touched? Ah..Heavens. Does it really matter to know what beauty is? I am still not able to generalize what beauty is, would it be objective? Can a person declare that a thing is absolute beauty? I don’t know, and I am no body to declare what beauty is. But this doesn’t stop me from recognizing things that are beautiful. It’s like I don’t how to fix an engine but I know how to drive. I don’t know what beauty is, but I know my bike and me on a lonely highway is beautiful, I know memories of youth with a pal who got shot down in riots are beautiful. These might not be “beauty” themselves, but they are full of beauty,”beauty-ful”.
