Water in a sink

Water. It is a strange thing.

It flows. It bubbles. It rolls. It runs. It stops. Today, it is running. It is running towards its own end. The sink is absorbing all of it as I stand here washing my dishes. But, I find strangeness in it. Enjoying like a child on a merry-go-round, the water is rolling on the shining plate. On a hard wooden surface, it is just throwing itself back, creating a fountain of soapy bubbles. The plastic tiffin lid cannot resist the pressure and is fighting back as if at war with the flowing water. But, below all the clutter in the sink, there is a hole where all the water streams down to darkness. The water is in such a hurry to go in, I wonder why. Why this water which is free to flow, is free to dance as droplets, is strong to fight with a solid and is able to become a shape it passes through — such magnificent water, why does it want to disappear into a dark hole? and that too, in such a haste? Does it even know what it is wishing for? Does it expect it to be good for itself? A wish when come true, not always brings joy.

At the base, when the water touches the sink, there is silence in strength. There are no questions, no arguments, no love, no fight, no emotions and no desire. The water, whichever direction it falls from, it becomes this silent and strong stream gushing towards the darkness. I wonder if it really matters to the water where it is going and why. I wonder if the water really cares what it will find in the hole.

Water, is a strange thing. For it, flowing freely or captured still, both are momentary. Life of a drop is only as long as it separates from a stream and meets another. Light or darkness, how does it matter? To stay calm or to rush, how is it different? To expect or to accept, how does it affect? When all is momentary, how does it matter which moment is it in?

Water, after all, is indeed a strange thing.

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Originally published at writing4observing.wordpress.com on January 24, 2016.