Tuesday, 2 July 2013

Solitude; I mean an insurmountable one

It was last weekend I washed my cloths last time. And it was yesterday, in the evening, I found that I was left with no washed cloths. Yesterday I was not in a mood to wash; and I spent the whole day in my room. Sometimes I feel that life is very much about routine. Since I didn't wash my cloths yesterday, I have a reason to take a day off today. I have no idea when will I really feel like washing my cloths next time; perhaps an uncertainty which is strictly confined to my immediate surroundings. And for that kind of reasons I feel sometimes that life has hardly anything to do with discipline and submission. All I know is that, at times, life takes a pause to rearrange the disorders and makes sure that cloths are washed and everything appears normal. sometimes it is inevitable as I fail to keep up. It was a rainy month of some not so long years back I had a puff of a cigarette for the first time; and I never tried it again since then. Sometimes I feel that there is an insoluble unresponsiveness inside; unresponsive even to lethal venom perhaps. I am having long nights. This month almost eighteen nights. Perhaps some of the longest nights in my life. I am not really sure about the numbers; eighteen or nineteen may be much more than that. I am not good with numbers. They always confuse me. They make me feel that I am mathematically disabled; almost beyond repair. I wake up in the morning everyday; no much doubt about that; because I see people get themselves in a hurry in the morning, sitting on the terrace, feeding the doves sometimes. free time is slow time always. I have friends. In fact quite a lot of them; even in the north western coast of north Atlantic Ocean. I hope they are all doing good and making every moment of their life a memorable one. I have cloths to wash, I have classes to attend and I have people around me to be made feel that I behave reasonably normal all the time. And this time I feel that won't fail trying to keep up because I find solitude is an insurmountable one

Stories of impossible bullshits

Pablo Neruda came to ALM hostel in 2007, and comrades in the hostel said ‘come and see the blood in the streets’. I love comrades for I too have seen old cowboy films, magnificently telling stories of impossible bullshits. And I too have decided once to taste alcohol to overcome the impossibilities, to break the chains and to mould myself into a cynic. But in my case not all my decisions will ever get instigated. I love comrades for fighting back every now and then even if they are unaccompanied. I feel that since every immediate moment demands a hopeful jump into an absolute unknown, better make an unaccompanied attempt. Sometimes it takes me a while to understand the surroundings. I am confused whether it is ALM or Tavistock Street or some other place where I have never been before! All I know is that I jumped into an unknown. Unaccompanied comrades of mine laugh at me for my undesirable confession and my unsolicited surrender. They deserve attention; if I fail to identify my immediate surroundings and fail to forget.
Robert came to Tavistock Street in 2009 just before the Christmas week. And that Christmas was full of ‘bivarova’; some polish wine or beer or whatever I don’t remember. For him Christmas was all about finishing bottles! And for that reason I had to make him feel an uninterrupted and unaccompanied Christmas Eve. Christmas time is snowing time always. And when it is snowing I could feel the dew point becoming gentle and going below the freezing point. And I don’t need any physical realities to make it happen. Excuse me once more for being obscure and incomplete. Now dew point is below freezing point and it is snowing here in Gujarat.

Strange platforms!!

Calicut Railway Station:- 12283 Durantho Express, as always late in the night. Someone seeks my attention! She had my attention for a while and arrival of my train on platform number 'one' has been confirmed. I boarded the train; and nothing unusual in boarding a train as hundreds of others doing the same every day. Everything appears normal. Train reminds me of those journeys which I have never been able to travel with you. Let me let you know that journeys of all kind would normally be a pleasure; but not always! Delhi is quite a distant destination, if it is a train journey. And; almost an unfriendly environment would probably trouble you at least for a few hours in the beginning. These journeys have been part of my desires and perhaps of my hopes for a long time. And now I am used to it. Long journeys with short pauses for a crossing or perhaps for an engine change! I could easily understand how you would feel when you have to travel alone. Though I have never travel with you, nor have I sat beside you on board but still I can imagine the loneliness and difficulties you would probably have to face in a journey of this kind. I made all my journeys unaccompanied. If you ask me if I am disappointed; I would perhaps say that, I would prefer in my life not to accept or regret a gift I have not been offered. This is of course a long journey and doesn't matter who makes it; but I am always concerned about your train and your journeys and certainly not about your destinations. My fellow travelers remain strangers and I suppose few of them are holiday makers!

I am almost in the middle of my journey and after leaving rails behind, between two extremes, here I am waiting for another passing. Another pause, certainly unexpected!! Many a time life is too serious a matter and a state of repose until something expected happens. But still hope is too genuine a reason makes us move on. Journey never ends here; engine resumes journey with annoying horn; but certainly makes us alert. Long 'not taken roads' ahead..., unmanned level-crossings, strange platforms!! As I am not able to travel with you; you always mind the gap.