sense and innocence, part 1: innocence

a very dear friend of mine once chided me for describing someone i love as 'innocent'. i'd apparently 'insulted' the person by saying she had that quality!

the word has taken on a negative connotation in these cynical times. liberated and high-thinking individuals find it offensive when applied to an adult.

let's see how the dictionary defines the word:

innocent (adj) 1.uncorrupted by evil, malice, or wrongdoing; sinless

2.not experienced or worldly; naive

3.free of guile; artless

to be innocent now stands for being stupid, naive, unaware. basically, a 'babe in the woods' ('babe': another non-pc word)

i think the word was created to describe something beautiful (sue me, i think the whole world and everybody in it is beautiful!).

here is my (and i like to think, the original) definition of it:

any element in its pure form, as nature created it; anything that has not been corrupted by the introduction of an alien substance/sensibility; the original, natural state of being for anything/anybody

(as you can see, the meaning of the word itself has been corrupted by applying sensibilities and contexts to the original, 'pure' word!)

well-known fact: all babies/children are beautiful because they're innocent.

not so well-known fact: EVERYBODY is beautiful. all you need to do is look beyond their apparent 'mask-i-put-on-for-the-world' face, and see their 'true' self.

try it, it'll make YOU feel beautiful!

songs of innocence (part 1)

A shudder passes through his body, and she hugs him harder.

"Let's stop and take shelter somewhere, or you'll catch a cold."

"Hah! I've ridden in far heavier downpours than this. This is nothing."

False bravado, and he knows it. It's getting icy cold, and they've been riding too long in the rain. His hands are frozen and the shivering becomes uncontrollable until he can no longer hide it.

"Please let's stop. Look, there's a tree. We can stand under that."

The worry in her voice makes him stop the bike. He parks it at the edge of the road, and they stand under the tree, drenched to the skin, dripping wet. The foliage above doesn't offer much protection, but it's better than being out in the cold rain.

"Here, let me warm you."

He laughs involuntarily, because it is he who usually says these words. They huddle together, rubbing each other's hands. But the wind is cruel, and chills him to the bone. The shivering gets worse.

"Come closer, my dupatta will protect you."

"This?" he says, looking incredulously at the thin piece of cloth made transparent by the rain water. He throws his head back and starts to laugh loudly, but stops almost immediately, noticing the hurt in her eyes.

"I'm sorry. But how do you expect to protect us with THIS?"

"It is said that if one loves a person enough, even the flimsiest garment can offer warmth."

The wind is freezing, the rain unrelenting and incessant. They stand there, water dripping over their heads from the leaves above, trickling down their wet clothes and merging into the mud under their feet.

But they are as cosy as a pair of pigeons in a warm nest.