My mom has been after me for so many days to throw away the grub i have been collecting for the past 5 years. B.Arch is almost done and the things which were of high priority once, remain shrouded in dust in some dark corner of my bed. They have waited for light ever since they have been thrown there. They have been talking to each other about their fate, discussing what would happen to them. Meanwhile, i go on outside with my sinister plans in the world of light.
I opened my box bed to find my things cheering me with their ever fresh smiles. I looked on as a man on a mission. With lack of feelings, emotions or any respect, i start taking them out and making two heaps of them. The grub wonders what would happen to them. Are they going to be used by someone? Is the wait finally over? Or they would be returning back to their old place. In the country of the dark, everyone knows that they are in transaction, awaiting their final destination with peace. Life goes on well there, they are all together for some time, until i, like some god or a demon, lift them away to a new destination.
It is tough to measure what i am thinking right now. The two heaps are filled with large rolls of sheets having the work i have done for the past 5 years. Many times i have been up all night working on them. I have been insulted for them and praised. I have worried, laughed, envied and even cried over them. I have drawn, sketched, written, draughted and dreamt on those carriers of creation. Today they find importance according to my future need.
I look at the ones who return back as a re-birth. The ones which go to the waste paper man, will be shredded and reused for a different purpose. It is not categorized on if they were good or bad, black or white; not even on what they contained. It is on there use in my bigger schemes. Do they contain any good, or are they just to be disposed. Those which had something good will return, the others will be shredded and will never return to the same place. Nevertheless they will find use in some other context. Nothing finishes, nothing is born.
When the waste paper man came, he weighed the waste pile to be 12kg. I get Rs. 72 for whatever i have gone through in my past 5 years....
Saturday, September 12, 2009
Saturday, September 5, 2009
A lazy day....
The rain patters the parched ground, mocking all the thoughts of its departure from the city. The buildings are once again drenched and quench their long awaited thirst. The clouds allow very few specks of dust from flying in the air. They are also punishing to the sun, not allowing any rays of light to enter.
The morning is calm as I perch inside my 4th floor heaven and look outside from the window. I pull the blanket more close to my face as my weary eyes cross horizons between dreams and the reality outside. There is a confusion about which is more beautiful. The body still shivers from the wafts of cool breezes which have successfully made their way inside the blanket and send goose bumps over my almost naked body. The sultry night strips you down to your overalls and the cold mornings make you aware of your stripped reality.
I see my father and mother talking to each other over a cup of tea. There smiles make evident their happiness of being with each other. It is subtle and never mentioned but clearly visible. I smile as they notice me. A start with a smile is good for them and me. My sister has already left for college. I now remember mumbling “have a nice day!” as she banged the door and I rejoined my dreams in my sleepy world. I wonder if she ever hears me wishing her. Its not her mistake but mine that I want to return back to my dream world so badly. By the time she turns back to say anything I am fast asleep.
There is no schedule today. No rules to follow, no restrictions. I do what I want, say what I feel and feel about what others say. They say one should have such days sometimes. They refresh you. One day of complete freedom. One day of just thoughts and no actions. A day of action without words. A day for all you want to do without anything clearly defined. Yes, one craves for such days and then you wish it would never end. Another part of your dream, until you get back to the world and dream about it again.
The morning is calm as I perch inside my 4th floor heaven and look outside from the window. I pull the blanket more close to my face as my weary eyes cross horizons between dreams and the reality outside. There is a confusion about which is more beautiful. The body still shivers from the wafts of cool breezes which have successfully made their way inside the blanket and send goose bumps over my almost naked body. The sultry night strips you down to your overalls and the cold mornings make you aware of your stripped reality.
I see my father and mother talking to each other over a cup of tea. There smiles make evident their happiness of being with each other. It is subtle and never mentioned but clearly visible. I smile as they notice me. A start with a smile is good for them and me. My sister has already left for college. I now remember mumbling “have a nice day!” as she banged the door and I rejoined my dreams in my sleepy world. I wonder if she ever hears me wishing her. Its not her mistake but mine that I want to return back to my dream world so badly. By the time she turns back to say anything I am fast asleep.
There is no schedule today. No rules to follow, no restrictions. I do what I want, say what I feel and feel about what others say. They say one should have such days sometimes. They refresh you. One day of complete freedom. One day of just thoughts and no actions. A day of action without words. A day for all you want to do without anything clearly defined. Yes, one craves for such days and then you wish it would never end. Another part of your dream, until you get back to the world and dream about it again.
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