Sunday, June 22, 2008
Friday, June 13, 2008
Lost And Found
I could not sleep.
No matter how hard I tried, I could not scare them away. The demons in my dreams, the ghosts in my head. I lay in bed, tired of tossing and turning around and tried to grasp onto the merest hint of silence but I felt them charge menacingly back in, kicking and screaming. Those ghosts, those memories, gnawing into every thought that my mind struggled to give birth to. It had been a tough month. No, not tough, terrible. Rejection, failure, regret, heartbreak and death. The past month had seen it all.
Life seemed to have been stuck in reverse, pounding against the wall, refusing to budge. And I, feeling queasy about the ease of hopelessness, dived right in, stoic and limp, to drown in a sea of bitter emotions, having lost myself in the land of grief. I had gone through it all. The failure of everything I’d held on to, those regretful decisions, her betrayal and the worst of all, living to see a friend’s final breath. My dearest one.
I was stuck in a place where every single breath I took burned my throat, throttled me and seemed to freeze my blood. A place where every single thought raped my mind and sent gloom wandering through the graveyard of my heart to exhume every memory I had buried. I was at The Grim Reaper’s masquerade, soigné, eagerly looking forward to a hangover.
I opened my eyes, startled and disoriented. I couldn’t take it any longer. I pulled the covers aside, swung my legs over the edge of my bed and sat up. I sat there, slumped, with my head in my hands, my fingers running through my hair, tugging at the tiny knots of hair on my nape. I glanced down at the bottom of the French windows framing my balcony. The glass had been fogged by a sheet of mist, like a muslin cloth draped across its surface. It had been raining since evening. As I sat there, staring at the threads of black that the crawling droplets were leaving on the foggy window, my thoughts drifted through the events of the day. The way I had mindlessly gone through the day, unconcerned about anyone around me. The way I had walked out to roam the streets without a word of explanation to anyone. I remembered the way I had walked, my head hung low, staring at my feet as they came back and forth in view. I had wandered into unknown streets taking turns as and when my mind pleased, melting into gloom over and over again. Then, I finally began walking towards ma apartment. I remembered waiting at a corner to cross a busy thoroughfare, when an urchin, a little girl, walked up to me and tugged at my jeans and offered to sell me something. I quickly snapped at her and stared right ahead, eager to cross the street. She called out to me again, her sweet, innocent voice barely a whisper now. Looking at my sullen countenance, she offered to sell me her wares at a reduced price. Already sulky, I shoved a note towards her, paying her much more than what she had demanded earlier, grabbed whatever was in her hand and walked quickly across the street. What happened after that seemed to be a vague memory. I remembered that I had then walked into a garden, already in the throes of morbidity. And then, I remember, as I was meandering, it began to drizzle. I continued to stroll aimlessly when suddenly, the drizzle gave way to heavy downpour. I quickened my footsteps and began to walk faster. As the rain grew in intensity, I hastily threw my recent purchase away and ran for cover. Ran until I realized that walking, drowning in the rain offered better solace. I slowly walked back home, alone and miserable. I remembered that as I closed my apartment door, I noticed that I had two messages waiting for me. Those dreadful messages….
I snapped out of my stupor and jumped back to the present. The wind was now howling outside and the rain continued to lash against my windows. I moved my fingers across my face, sank back in on to the bed and gently my eyes fall over my bloodshot eyes. Where had it all gone wrong? What had I done to deserve her betrayal? And what had my friend done to deserve mine? As his face drifted into focus, I blurred into depression. What was I doing to myself? Why this misery? Would it have honored his friendship? Why had I lost myself on the grey horizons of melancholia? Why was I so petrified of my own soliloquy?
As the ensuing calm deepened, it gave remorse the opportunity it was looking for. It pounced back on, clawing at my soul, assailing my mind with glimpses of a life gone by. It all came back. The look of my friend’s face when he knew I had screwed up. Big time. The silly bets we’d got ourselves into. But most of all, I recalled that lonely, rainy night we’d spent hanging out at the terrace. We sat there, unmindful of the lashing rain and talked. Talked about soccer, relationships, our past, their future, everything under the Sun and The Dark Side Of The Moon. Talked about life.
Talked about everything.
And nothing.
And that’s when it hit me. I opened my eyes in shock and lay there, unable to breathe. I quickly got up, grabbed my windcheater and ran out of my apartment. Ran in the rain, oblivious to the world around me. Ran as fast as I could. I ran. I raced towards the garden I had walked into earlier during the day. The garden was closed and the gates were shut but I couldn’t care less. Hoisting myself with the help of the gates, I climbed onto the wall and jumped over. I ran in, heaving, and then suddenly pulled to a stop. There it was. Looking at it, I smiled. Smiled for the first time in months. Smiled, as the magic filled me in with life.
There it lay, among the bushes, beautifully woven amongst the blades of the emerald grass, whispering the sweetest of poetry.
There it lay.
The rose I had bought from the little girl at the traffic signal.
No matter how hard I tried, I could not scare them away. The demons in my dreams, the ghosts in my head. I lay in bed, tired of tossing and turning around and tried to grasp onto the merest hint of silence but I felt them charge menacingly back in, kicking and screaming. Those ghosts, those memories, gnawing into every thought that my mind struggled to give birth to. It had been a tough month. No, not tough, terrible. Rejection, failure, regret, heartbreak and death. The past month had seen it all.
Life seemed to have been stuck in reverse, pounding against the wall, refusing to budge. And I, feeling queasy about the ease of hopelessness, dived right in, stoic and limp, to drown in a sea of bitter emotions, having lost myself in the land of grief. I had gone through it all. The failure of everything I’d held on to, those regretful decisions, her betrayal and the worst of all, living to see a friend’s final breath. My dearest one.
I was stuck in a place where every single breath I took burned my throat, throttled me and seemed to freeze my blood. A place where every single thought raped my mind and sent gloom wandering through the graveyard of my heart to exhume every memory I had buried. I was at The Grim Reaper’s masquerade, soigné, eagerly looking forward to a hangover.
I opened my eyes, startled and disoriented. I couldn’t take it any longer. I pulled the covers aside, swung my legs over the edge of my bed and sat up. I sat there, slumped, with my head in my hands, my fingers running through my hair, tugging at the tiny knots of hair on my nape. I glanced down at the bottom of the French windows framing my balcony. The glass had been fogged by a sheet of mist, like a muslin cloth draped across its surface. It had been raining since evening. As I sat there, staring at the threads of black that the crawling droplets were leaving on the foggy window, my thoughts drifted through the events of the day. The way I had mindlessly gone through the day, unconcerned about anyone around me. The way I had walked out to roam the streets without a word of explanation to anyone. I remembered the way I had walked, my head hung low, staring at my feet as they came back and forth in view. I had wandered into unknown streets taking turns as and when my mind pleased, melting into gloom over and over again. Then, I finally began walking towards ma apartment. I remembered waiting at a corner to cross a busy thoroughfare, when an urchin, a little girl, walked up to me and tugged at my jeans and offered to sell me something. I quickly snapped at her and stared right ahead, eager to cross the street. She called out to me again, her sweet, innocent voice barely a whisper now. Looking at my sullen countenance, she offered to sell me her wares at a reduced price. Already sulky, I shoved a note towards her, paying her much more than what she had demanded earlier, grabbed whatever was in her hand and walked quickly across the street. What happened after that seemed to be a vague memory. I remembered that I had then walked into a garden, already in the throes of morbidity. And then, I remember, as I was meandering, it began to drizzle. I continued to stroll aimlessly when suddenly, the drizzle gave way to heavy downpour. I quickened my footsteps and began to walk faster. As the rain grew in intensity, I hastily threw my recent purchase away and ran for cover. Ran until I realized that walking, drowning in the rain offered better solace. I slowly walked back home, alone and miserable. I remembered that as I closed my apartment door, I noticed that I had two messages waiting for me. Those dreadful messages….
I snapped out of my stupor and jumped back to the present. The wind was now howling outside and the rain continued to lash against my windows. I moved my fingers across my face, sank back in on to the bed and gently my eyes fall over my bloodshot eyes. Where had it all gone wrong? What had I done to deserve her betrayal? And what had my friend done to deserve mine? As his face drifted into focus, I blurred into depression. What was I doing to myself? Why this misery? Would it have honored his friendship? Why had I lost myself on the grey horizons of melancholia? Why was I so petrified of my own soliloquy?
As the ensuing calm deepened, it gave remorse the opportunity it was looking for. It pounced back on, clawing at my soul, assailing my mind with glimpses of a life gone by. It all came back. The look of my friend’s face when he knew I had screwed up. Big time. The silly bets we’d got ourselves into. But most of all, I recalled that lonely, rainy night we’d spent hanging out at the terrace. We sat there, unmindful of the lashing rain and talked. Talked about soccer, relationships, our past, their future, everything under the Sun and The Dark Side Of The Moon. Talked about life.
Talked about everything.
And nothing.
And that’s when it hit me. I opened my eyes in shock and lay there, unable to breathe. I quickly got up, grabbed my windcheater and ran out of my apartment. Ran in the rain, oblivious to the world around me. Ran as fast as I could. I ran. I raced towards the garden I had walked into earlier during the day. The garden was closed and the gates were shut but I couldn’t care less. Hoisting myself with the help of the gates, I climbed onto the wall and jumped over. I ran in, heaving, and then suddenly pulled to a stop. There it was. Looking at it, I smiled. Smiled for the first time in months. Smiled, as the magic filled me in with life.
There it lay, among the bushes, beautifully woven amongst the blades of the emerald grass, whispering the sweetest of poetry.
There it lay.
The rose I had bought from the little girl at the traffic signal.
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