Colours of life

Colours of Life: A Colurful Magic, by Md Taslim, is an inspiring, aesthetic work of fiction that encourages readers to celebrate life in all its colors. The author is comprehensive and perceptive when discussing the myriad aspects of life, from simple pleasures to deep pain. Using an eclectic cast of characters, each vignette stands on its own as a gem of wisdom.

I think about how superficial life has become for this generation. They have thousands of virtual friends, but very few actual friends. Most virtual people have a fake identity. Superficial life, fake virtual friends. Handheld masturbators and dolls to dress as they fancy and to sleep with them in bed to fulfill their carnal desires….

The chemical process of human beings is bound to be satiated, but these are peripheral physicochemical requirements, whereas everything exists deep down in the pristine pure form.

Winning and losing are a part of the game. Losing must always instill a determination to stand up and fight back with greater vigor. A win always teaches us to be magnanimous and rejoice with restraint. It also inspires us to work hard. Victory and loss in the game help us understand the ways of life. After every win, there is a chance to lose in the future. Losing must fill our hearts with a desire to win and with the belief that winning is not impossible. One should never lose hope or get dejected and disappointed. No one should ever stop laughing. Everyone should always strive to move ahead in life. After all, life is a game. Everyone should play it fairly with vigor and vitality, with a determination to succeed.

It is a matter not only prevalent among less-educated people but also among well-educated and so-called sophisticated members of high society. We are dexterous in talking big and citing great examples, but we are rotten shit only. We know well that love is an essence of life and is the very core of our existence, whether we are human beings, birds, or animals, but do we care? Do we care for our women?

The game of life is strange. The time comes silently and whispers “abracadabra,” colors the canvas, and leaves quietly, leaving no trace. Leaves a pang and anguish for a lifetime. We get submerged in this magic of life, obligated. It is the ways and beauty of its colorful, enchanting spell. That is why we all carry our cross, enduring the pain of life, hopes-and-dreams-filled eyes, and living with mirth and glee until we reach our predestined, foolproof destination, which is nothing but a big full stop. Our story is complete. We call it fate or destiny, whatever we like.

What you think you become.

For the poor, life has a different meaning. They are asked to look up.

For a rich life is a luxury, etc. They are asked to look down.