I have a pair of scissors which I bought in 2010. Seven years and they have been one of my most loyal companions. They are blue on their finger holes and the blades used to be shiny and sharp for a long time. I remember using them on practically every piece of cloth, paper or anything else I was able to find. I have cut milk cartons and my beard with them and I have used them as bottle opener for my ketchup jar.
Tonight while cutting a milk carton I noticed patches of red on their blades. Red which doesn’t leave iron once it finds her. Red which kills its metal. The blades have gone soft now. They are not as sharp or fast as they once used to be. They seem tired of everything I have instilled on them over their lifetime. The effects are showing up.
They remind me of myself and of many others like me. Once sharp like a razor, we have been blunted by time and circumstances. We smile at things that once bothered us just because they don’t bother us anymore.
Pain is only felt till the limit. Once it is crossed, we become inert to the idea of pain. It becomes a part of our being. Same goes with defeats and failures. How much can one regret? How much can one whine and weep?
Yesterday, someone was telling me about them being in some sort of crossroads, about being hurt by others and stuff like that.
I sympathized with the person, hugged and then quietly walked into my room. I didn’t feel like laughing at the person or feeling sad about them. It is their life and they would figure it out. Funny thing, I don’t even remember what the topic of conversation was. I am just happy that I cooked some food tonight. Rice and some egg plant curry. I remember liking it a lot as a child.
Until next time.