Letter to Destiny

Respected Destiny,

You urged me to do this, and thus I succumb even as letters are fewer these days. How does one reach a letter to you? Forget that, how does one even frame one? "You are destiny's child" one hears of a faintly successful life. That way you aren't exactly my parent even though I am mildly successful too. At least in terms opposing to the world's. You are that indicator which steadily sways, leading me to all the elsewheres possible, everytime.

In Bengal, and amongst Bengalis, the boat is an epitome of something that I do not understand. Perhaps it signifies the pensive journey of life, perhaps it evokes waves of romanticism. I think of paper-boats and their end whenever I think of you. You, like the boat, so heavy, so full of incomprehensible meaning; while paper-boats are completely different, lightweight and rudderless, on a fanciful journey, not even necessarily on water.

And creepily, that, is what you have become in my life, my paper-boat. You have made me embark on a journey without direction, but with a lot of love and concern. It would be such a pain to shred such a thing away, but what a waste it is anyway! You never specify what I am meant to do, or be, or reach, but the folds are made with the attention of an engineer who takes pride in the 'parts'. 

You have fooled me with pretty flowers on my head when all I want is the diamond around my neck. Yet here I am composing a letter to reach you maybe someday when my paper-boat reaches a forest-path by the river leading to the mountains shining under moonlight. If you open the letter, don't be ashamed that you couldn't give me a shape. Shadows cannot be chased, thank you.

You have led me nowhere, from the beginning, and made me change in between, and never allowed me an end.

As you chose me to be, I remain.

Consistently inconsistent,

K.