Philosophizing

It must have been a brief moment of something significant, a tug, a pull, a communication from above, something too brief and in passing, but something that definitely was. Call it a spell, call it hallucination, or counting the years misspent and in anticipation, the years that melted away into memories and more memories piling up, of a big, fat album in the mind. I would often turn the pages of the album in solitude, in loneliness, alone in a crowd, watching the world go by me. I would flip the pages in my mind and before I know, minutes, and hours would sift and slip by my fingers, like fine silk. If it had been a message from somewhere that was destined to be, and not to be at the same time, I would not know. For when something doesn’t make sense, doesn’t have a reason, or doesn’t seem explicable using the finiteness of the senses, science turns into philosophy. I sit for hours in a crowd, waiting to catch the next plane, and think of all the philosophy packed into the head, flipping through the pages of the album that exists only in my mind now, and like a movie, credits roll and things play by again and again right in front of me. I become a spectator of my own life. To think that it is but a faded memory, living far and deep into the recesses of the past now, to try and distinguish the fact from the fantasy, or the things that exist in the mind versus the things that exist, is an ordeal. To see a carnival of people walk by me, away from something, toward something, with something, and to wonder why I see the people I see, for is it but a chance event, a phenomenon of randomness, or something conspired and connived, is beyond me. I know not if they are but apparitions floating around me, tricking me into believing they exist, but not in reality. If one could see beyond the natural, they would see thin green lines connecting people, almost like a laser beam, the tug, the pull that we do not sense or perceive, but which exists nevertheless. There was a similar line between us, something that could potentially make me sense you, your existence in a crowd of unknowns. The sun that set from your window is the same sun I just watched rise. And we continued our efforts, trying to make sense of the atoms and the molecules around us, how they behave in particular ways, and why they behave thus. To think we were all a part of the grand scheme of things we had no knowledge of, and no control over, happily walking by the ocean in a perfectly moonlit night, not cognizant of the thousand forces that make paths cross, and the thousand more forces that make people go their own separate ways. Call it fate or destiny, or call it an accident, maybe a happy accident, it is the same feeling of deciding to choose to take this bus every morning, or wear this dress one morning, and not that one. Who knows where the other bus would have led. So true it felt when you said, the future is scarier than the past. For the past is what it already is, immutable, like an imprint, a page out of a diary, a picture out of an album of memories. I speak predictably, and in clichés, yada yada yada. But for the same reasons you give me, the past to me is scarier than the future, for it is what is already is, immutable, like an imprint, a page out of the diary that is already written, and cannot be erased. When accidents happen in life, things do not come crashing into one another. It is subtle, and perhaps more potent and dangerous thus. Sometimes, all it takes is an innocuous click of the finger, a nod of yes or no, an assent, or a dissent. And years into things, you sit as lonely as ever amidst a crowd, looking back and wondering. Wondering who you ended up being, and who you wanted to end up being. And then you close the album, get up, walk past me and take the next plane, moving onto newer things, continuing to pile on memories one above the other, totally oblivious of me. Life goes on, and so do you, and I, and everyone around us. But sometimes, a random face amidst strangers would remind me of you, make me slow down my pace and turn back to look, to wonder if it was indeed another sign to be picked up, a sign amidst the million ones that were already lost on me, and then some more.

sunshine

Closure

I walked slowly up to the long corridor of memories. This place had seen good days, and it had seen bad days. There were days of pain and grief and anguish, and there were days of joy and dreams and laughter etched on the walls. The long walkway led to the door at the far end of the corner, the same heavy, strong door that now remains closed all the time. I slowly walked up to the door, my feet made of lead. This journey has always been painful.

I slowly touched the door, the metal feeling cold and lifeless to my hands. The air seemed damp and musty. I tried pushing the heavy door a bit, and it creaked and squeaked. I pushed it a little more, aghast at all the noise it made for nothing. What an ordeal it was! This place reeked of death. I gulped, knowing what I was about to see at the other end of the door, but not quite prepared for it. I opened it wide enough to be able to see the other end of the room. There at the corner she was, as always, crouched on the floor the same way she has always been. It seems she was oblivious to the creaking of the door, or to anything else going around in the world that made sense. She was stooped on the ground, wearing a flowing white dress, her hair unkempt and flying wildly around her face. She had a piece of her dress in her hand, nice to touch, all shiny and satiny, and was scrubbing it with all her might. It seemed like she was trying to get the stain off the cloth, and was working at it diligently, so much that she was unaware of anything else. She must have sensed my presence, my discomfort, for she looked up to see me, startled, her brown almond eyes dilating and liquefying. She looked at me with an expression difficult to decipher. One could not guess what she wanted me to do with that pleading look in her eyes. It seemed like she was trying to reach out to me, like a scared child, for empathy, for understanding, for closure. Yet she spoke not a word.

She looked at me for what seems like ages, that same look that I have seen on her beautiful yet slowly ageing face every time now. Then as if she had never seen me, she went back to work. She went back to business, to scrubbing the corner of her dress she was holding on to dearly, as if I had never existed. She scrubbed with all her strength, with every muscle of determination. I pleaded her to stop doing that and look at me. She did not. I knew I had lost her once again.

I closed the door behind me and scampered out of the corridor, eerie apparitions with little fragments of her face exploding all around me. I could not face that look in her eyes, the fear and the pain that was so palpable and that left me so helpless. There was no way I could stay there and prolong my misery any longer, I needed some sunshine on my skin, I needed some fresh air to breathe, I needed to make a resolution to never come back again. I half-walked, half-ran, not sure if the ghosts had stopped chasing me. I didn’t realize I was crying. Something about her face broke my heart every time I saw her that way. I used to know a different face a lifetime ago. Not anymore.

I was out there in the sun, panting, gasping for breath. I closed my eyes once and there I saw the image of her scrubbing her dress, trying to get rid of the stain that perhaps no one else saw. I have seen her the same way, in the same room, crouched on the floor and doing the same thing for so long now. And I know that I am never going to have my closure for as long as she does it.

She’s been doing that for four years now.

sunshine

Jab They Met

They didn’t realize how much they wanted to see each other till they actually met each other. It is strange how you spend years without seeing someone, and then the last few minutes of wait become unbearable. So she settled with her bags and baggage in the airport lounge, neatly arranging her stuff, nervously combing her hair, and waiting in anticipation. She was a little nervous at the prospect of seeing him perhaps. It had been years after all.

She restlessly tapped her feet onto the ground in rhythm with the music playing in her ears. She wondered which gate he would enter from, if he will show up from the front of the lounge or from behind her. Thus she waited impatiently, looking here and there every few minutes and then looking at the watch.

And then he appeared. He simply stood there, smiling at her. For a moment, she thought that she was transfixed. Here she was looking at the person she has flown thousands of miles for. All her resolve of a courteous hi and a civil hand shake was soon shoved away. For the moment she saw him, she dropped her bags and baggage, running head on, like a weapon all set to hit her target. Seeing her and knowing her all these years, he opened his arms wide. When she was done running more than half the way, common sense prevailed and she started to realize some basic laws of physics she had learnt back in school. If she did not start to decelerate in time, she would soon hit her target head on, and so high would be the momentum (which is a product of mass and velocity by the way) that it could cause disastrous effects which were clumsy and far from elegant.

She slowed down just in time to hit right on to his chest, and the moment she did so, he engulfed her into his huge frame. They knew not how long they stood that way, hugging each other and breathing in each other’s scent while time stood still and nothing really mattered anymore. She stood on tiptoe to reach somewhat up to his height, and stood there with her eyes closed.

How have you been?

Good good.

I’ve missed you.

So have I.

How was the flight?

Tiring, as usual.

I’m glad you made it.

So am I.

So what are you listening to?

Some random music playing in my ears.

Silence…………..

So are you gonna release me or are we gonna stand this way all day?

It is then that they both realized what a scene they made……

And they thought such events happened only in movies and in romantic novels…..

sunshine