The past is a lousy thing of the past that is an ass and nothing else, best forgotten, kicked or recalled as lesions for the making of the present or the future. Beyond this it has no other practical utility. However, knowing fully well, we somehow tend to cling and swear by it. Such an excessive preoccupation of the bygone events and eventualities of yesteryears, render us drained and literally immobilized. By indulging in rumination and reminiscences, we in fact tend to prod very hard to escape from the stark realities of life, living and today that is full of promises and possibilities. The recalls, than for us turn free leisure and luxuries that we weave, rearranging the elements as we like them to be. They help us to seek solace and win sympathies or pathetic pities, variously justifying our inactions.Often, we become the willing victim of in letting our unconscious and sub-conscious mind to play tricks on us by allowing ourselves to be drawn to a time that is long dead and has lost all or much of its color and relevance in the present. Though, in itself or by itself, the past is incapable of resurrection; yet we recreate it deftly to walk into its numerable traps. Than, we fail to realize that these shadows-very dark, of aberrations would one day overpower us by blurring our vision. In turn, an overworked mind of ours churns habitually the destructive illusions, making us restless and rudderless.
The past has no other name—Just call it the oblivion. It is a moth eaten canvas of jumbled up and assembled canvas of absurd abstractions that cannot grow flesh, blood and emotions again, however hard we may try or want it to be. The joys and sorrows that once existed and we had experienced, were so, only in relation to those unique milieu along with the erstwhile actors, elements and the contexts. There is absolutely little chance of their coming together again together exactly the same way, in spite of our longing. What we do not know and fail to accept is that like the memories, they must have decayed, disintegrated or probable died of suffocations of the time. In actuality, they cannot ever enact themselves even if we meticulously script the probable plays, to sit and watch the acts right on the stage.
A past has no other utility except that it is to be forgotten and forgiven. We must allow the past of ours to die or facilitate its transition so that it can go missing as a fugitive, destined never to return. Someday, if we decide to visit the past in person to be at the scene, we would certainly find to our amazement and awe, the rubbles and broken artifacts, strewn here and there or buried deep along with few disjointed bones. A past is therefore numb and shapeless. Our reminiscences are just the dark alleys that lead to nowhere. To live a life in the present, it is best to escape its tyranny as fact as possible.
Know that villages after villages, cities after cities and civilizations after civilizations or the mighty egos and all powerful gods, one day would be decimated or change colors to turn pale for the coming todays. Have we not heard of the mighty emperors and their empires that vanished so that the inquisitive archaeologists and vandals would make a decent living by finding them?