Arranged

"I hope my daughter breaks many hearts when she grows up. And I'll break twice as many legs..."

Everything has feelings. Even non-living things. Ever since I was a child, I'd always thought that and still do. And that non living thing could also be a grain of rice on a plate that has been  eaten from and deemed so insignificant that it is left out to be washed with the plate. So my general tendency is never to leave a single grain of rice on the plate. That tiny grain of rice might have lived, loved and might have had its own ambitions after all; even if those ambitions are as lame as being eaten and not being thrown away.

And this belief that inanimate objects have feelings is more amplified when one kind of develops an attachment to the things one uses. Maybe a favorite t-shirt or a cricket bat.

So now imagine that you are a music lover. From a family of music lovers - a family which, for some reason, says you must only play the tabla and nothing else. But suppose the tabla is in short supply. And good tablas in even shorter supply. But at the same time, there is this new limited edition one of its kind guitar that is available in the nearest music store. Maybe on the lines of a Fender Stratocaster, often cited as the sexiest guitar on earth or maybe an ESP acoustic. It has a great neck, perfect albeit slightly fat soundbox and amazing feel on the fingers. And let's just say you have the money to buy one too. And you care about it since it is the music that matters to you and not whether it's percussion, bass or string.

You visit the music store everyday for weeks on end, stand on tippy toes just for a glimpse of the guitar. You go home and google for images, set it as your wallpaper, become so obsessed with the guitar that you are not sure if anything similar will ever cross your path. You dream of the guitar night and day. You strum an air guitar imagining all the possibilities that could happen with the true instrument in your hand. You visit your friends' place and find used plectrums on the floor thinking, wondering if you will ever have the passion to play the enigma that is the beauty at the music store? If the guitar indeed has feelings, will it ever lend me its allegiance? Will this family of tabla evangelists ever accept a kin with a guitar? You never know.

And within the time that has elapsed in the wondering, the music shop puts up a "SOLD" sign next the the guitar. Your first reaction is disbelief. How can such a thing of beauty go away so suddenly? How can someone claim it as their own? Maybe the guitar clan was waiting for such an exquisite piece to come to the market. But what can you do at that point of time? Will you bargain with the buyer and try to pay a higher price and buy it from him instead? But what if the guitar has already shared its allegiance? Does it make sense to woo the guitar again? Would it even be meaningful? Would the risk of alienating the tabla be greater than the risk of losing a one of a kind instrument? You never know until the waters are tested. Such things of beauty do have a very short shelf life.

Once the disbelief sinks is, there is a small amount of rage - rage on the self as to why in spite of having all the resources, you did not act while there was time. Rage on the clan for not allowing the possibility of stringed instruments. Rage over the universe for creating such exquisite music. Rage over humans having opposable thumbs. And rage due to the Mayan doom's day being postponed.

And after the rage comes acceptance. One good night's sleep followed by a morning dose of hot dark chocolate makes you remember that this isn't the first time that something like this has happened. History will be dotted with such examples where opportunities are missed only to make way for something more brilliant than ever imagined. Maybe that tabla exists somewhere, or has not yet been created, or maybe created, but not yet perfected.

At this point, I recall a beautiful song from the Poets of the Fall called "Maybe tomorrow is a better day" and I quote:

This day will die tonight and there ain't no exception

Why should I wait for nothing to wait for

I won't cry for my solitude, lay my head and dream of you

And hope that you'll come knocking on my door

And maybe tomorrow is a better day...

Catch the full song here.