Everyone has a baggage

It might be someone’s regret, others’ guilt, or sometimes a buried resentment.
Everyone has a baggage

As I happened to pull over by my friend's clinic and wait for her in the clinic waiting hall, I was taken aghast by the patients who were on hold there. They knew not that I was a doctor myself. They kept passing these stares like they were trying to explore something about everyone there. In no time, I could hear these muffled voices in their brains, as if trying to crack a puzzle. It went something like this and on; "is she dying, does she have Lupus, his legs are fine doesn't seem he has arthritis, she is a kid how did she land up in depression, Oh Good God a boy with such sober looks has landed up in addiction" and so on. Everyone there trying to actually get the solution to their own insecurities, their apprehensions and a deep fear.

Everyone of us has a carry-on. It might be someone's regret, others' guilt, or sometimes a buried resentment. Your deadweight might be your screwed jobs, your failing relations, your struggling career, or even your academic failures. Everyone has his own share , defined by himself. Each of you do consider life to be a lore but forget to consider its abhorrent nature. Or may be most of you do take life as an opponent. Consider life as a "JACK-IN-A-BOX", who said opening the box will always be like a sweet surprise, it might even sometimes frighten you. Just like a rose has fragrance to charm you, it has thorns too to protect it; just like the stoppers on the road are never to stop your journey, but to keep your wheels in check and just like 'pros' has always 'cons' with it. Your baggage too is there not to stop you but to let you fly higher and higher while you still are grounded to your core humbleness and humility. It is to remind you that now you are free from whatever was holding you back earlier. So was it bad? Not at all. Don't sulk in. Just choose wisely how you let your mind boggle on your carriage. Loosen it or get yourself frozen.

Remember nothing is perfect. If only you have wondered at the perfectly imperfect lines of your hands, you would realise how perfect fortunes have been written with these imperfectly looking lines. There is always a bigger perfection in an apparent imperfection.

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