I went out today, alone. Had a delectable plate of mutton chops and some really good raspberry/cranberry drink. It was an isolated place called “Group Therapy” in Secunderabad, India. I had my copy of “To Kill A Mockingbird” with me and a bunch of tangled thoughts that gradually came free and together to appear comprehensive. The people there were so nice. It was a lady, with short red hair. She reminded me of a friend I once knew, a long time ago.
That’s when it hit me. I was so uncomfortable while talking to her. She did everything right, said the right words and smiled the right way but my stomach wouldn’t stop clenching. The introvert in me remains strong. I’ve always been by myself and now it doesn’t help me make any conversation. When I do, I always have a nagging feeling that I am being awkward or ridiculous.
Like food, my will to converse depends on my mood. Lamb chops may be the special for today and tomorrow, I’d find them absolutely distasteful. I’m just beginning to learn that people are not meant to be boring one day and appealing the next. I’ve made a resolution to talk to strangers more and I think I’ll try talking to people with different opinions and mindsets. Anyway, how long can I stay shy and secluded?
On a completely different note, I enjoy eating alone to the point where I might cancel plans with a group of friends to spend time with myself. This is not the introvert in me, shying away but just one enjoying one’s own company.
I want to analyse and give a detailed review of To Kill a Mockingbird and I shall do it once I finish it. I haven’t read that book up until now, can you believe it?!?
I believe that it is easy to see but hard to look. Sitting here, in this empty house I have a strong desire to move to some place where I can be free of societal prejudices. To move far away where no soul knows me. Every day I see the same things, the same road, the same people. These things get tiring after a while. I need to explore new dimensions, new worlds that are hidden away from the dreary foot steps of human beings.
It’s always nice to experience something alone. Lakes, trees, rivers, streets, cottages etc must be experienced by the soul, not the mind. To have company while travelling will only ruin the world around you. With a companion, you perceive things with their eyes and the distractions become ominous. To be by yourself, there lies the true magic.
I haven’t travelled much. Just a few states in India. Though they were extremely beautiful, I feel the need to experience more, to feel more than what I have felt and already feel. I personally like thick and wet woods. The smell of the trees after rain, the bees buzzing in the bushes, the road hidden by fallen flowers and leaves… it’s the kind of atmosphere I prefer.
I think my ideal place to live would be England. I have a strong urge to visit the country and breathe its air. Maybe someday..
I have a friend, let’s call her A. A and I have been friends for over five years now and there has never been anything to hinder our friendship. When she moved away, I admit I did feel a little out of place, the only person who ever empathized with me was gone but we always kept in touch through letters, e-mails etc.
Letters. They have been our solemn means of communication. In A’s own words “we had created a private little world” and it is thanks to these handwritten letters that we never had a chance to say goodbye to each other though we lived miles apart. We were connected by some sort of a weird telepathic wire.
I’m thankful to A for always sticking by me even when I proved the most difficult person to deal with.
Coming to the point, everyday I catch a small cold of sadness.. it’s a pounding in my head that won’t go away. Sometimes this cold lasts for a long time and it’s during these times that I find myself incapacitated. My motivation takes a vacation and I find myself lacking in any enthusiasm. These everyday blues are difficult to let go, easy to hang on to. They parent mysterious thoughts.
I’m trying to let go of these thoughts and replace them with good memories. Memories of A and me, whispering to each other, coming up with silly ideas for stories and separating ourselves from the rest of the world that we find so incomprehensible. Memories of Dad and me, driving on the early morning roads carpeted with dew drops from close knitted tress, bed-time stories and his face, smiling down on me as if I could never do anything wrong.
A has become an integral part of my world. She’s a weapon I use to fight my blues with and I hope I am hers. I’ve always wanted a sibling and I guess I have found one in A.
It started as a simple idea in a foggy head and soon it materialized onto my screen. I struggled with various issues over the past few years but the greatest struggle was my inability to pen down my thoughts coherently any more. I lost my grip and the words faded into oblivion.
But I know for a fact, that in some dusty corner at the back of my head, these words are alive and breathing. The air around them pulsating with vibrant shades of love. I know that if I put enough effort, they’d break free. I can see them fly one day, onto the paper, into different consciousnesses, an amalgamation of beauty and inspiration…
I can hear them cry… for Freedom. And everyday, it’s this cry that motivates me to move forward, to get rid of them from the safe confines of my head and share it with the world.