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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.