Sometimes life is not that's happening outside the bistro but inside, amidst all the goings on, the annoying chatter of the Sunday crowd. Amidst all kinds of people with all kinds of expressions. Smiles, laughter, frowns, smirks. The way they eat. The way they hold their coffee mugs and bring it closer to take gentle sips. There are numerous sentiments. The way they pick fries and clean the saucy crap from their lips with the perfect edges of the paper napkin. Those moments are like an unwritten poem which has the perfect words and structure, a rhyme all set to be inked on paper.
But there are times when you see nothing yet see something beyond the visible. That one moment. That one happily solitary soul in a solitary nook . A free soul rather, truly living it up. Oblivious to the wordly worries. In a world of its own. Happy, blissful and impeccably peaceful. And this beautiful sight makes me wonder, at some point in time we all are going to end up all alone. We all grow old with the fading of time. But what we do with that aloneness is all that matters in the end. Will we crib at our lost time and in search of that lose our patience? Or will we read books, make tea, take walks, go to places where we've never been, pray and be grateful? It's all in us to be what we want to be. Who knows what the future will bring but if we befriend ourselves, even this solitude is poetry. For it brings joy, a sense of completeness in an incomplete life. Besides, this lovely old woman or any solitary old person is like a child who knows to be present in the moment and relish their own presence. This feeling of happiness, this sense of joyful independence is a gift of inner richness. A kind of contentment that brings back childish innocence. Perhaps it's rightly said, "You can never be lonely if you like the person you're alone with."
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