Archive for January, 2015

Of an evening in December ’14

January 24, 2015

Exactly what were his thoughts he did not know. It was an evening, already getting dark out. He was hungry with little idea about what he would have for dinner. This was not very unusual for him. He had had many evenings like this. This evening was not a different one. He was just sitting doing nothing. “I’m having a little headache perhaps”, he thought, “but it doesn’t really feel like an ache. It’s more like something is stuffed pack in the skull and it’s making pressure from within.” It was not unusual.

He lay back for a while, rested his head on the pillow. Eyes closed. Trying to feel his breath. It was such a silence. A servile fan whirling above his head. His hunger was making a call.

“Why do I need to be so tense all the time?” he thought, but then he suddenly shirked off the thought and started staring at the fan. He was still not feeling alive enough to get up and get something to eat. “It’s just a waste of life”, he murmured. He could find no reason for anything he was making through.

Today, it’s place A. Tomorrow, it’ll be place B. He had no affinity to places, but these places grow up on one’s self. This cot crackles when he jerks off on it. These bed sheets and blankets and pillows – no, he doesn’t have any attachment to them. When he leaves them tomorrow, he won’t feel any sad, just a little hurried lest he couldn’t go if he makes it late. Then it would be an end. He would find another cot to jerk off on.

What was it that was holding him together so long, he wondered. He was not sure. He was not sure even if he was still held together or was already fallen apart. “I would save this question for some later date”, he said to himself. Was he afraid? Perhaps, he was. But what was it that would make him afraid; he was not sure. It was only an evening, not the end of world.

This will take him nowhere, he knew. But it was not that he was planning to go somewhere. He was content in standing where he was – but this goddamn headache or whatever! The evening was getting darker. Some kids are playing in the backyard downstairs – happy and yelling. They’ll get tired and go home and straight to the dinner table. Mother will ask them to wash hands and such. Good kids. Mama will hold them close and caress through their hair. Kids don’t have headaches.

It’s useless, he muttered. Why on the earth that it was those kids and their fathers and not him? He was not sure if their fathers had headaches or not, but he was sure they don’t jerk off at least. He knew happiness doesn’t come for free, but he was tired of this headache, this constant buzz he was holding in his skull for so long. Something was missing. It had been months since he had been in bed.

Of what it could be…

January 6, 2015

It’s not that he never cries, but when he does, he usually knows it’s coming, and he keeps feeling like he can stop it if he would really try, and then it makes him feel kind of guilty to cry even though he can “not cry.”  It makes him feel fake.  But when he cried this morning on hearing her voice, he knew it was not fake.  He still tried to stop it, and he did actually succeed, but still couldn’t stop sobbing.

It was the first time in years he had not heard her voice for so long.  He was used to starting his days with her voice, and it was her voice he was used to go sleep with.  He was so accustomed to it, it never occurred to him that he may have to live without it some day.  And still when it came to that, he did reasonably well. He plunged himself into his tasks – building his bridges back.  “Enjoying life is so subjective,” he thought.  He started forming new definitions of enjoying life, and of life itself.

But when she called this morning, past a few awkward moments, he saw nothing has changed – he is the same he, she is the same she, and it still could be the same “us.”… It came so suddenly – tears rolled down.

Hanging without a rope

January 5, 2015

You come to a new town on a new job assignment. A far off place you’ve never visited before. Though not totally alien. You had few friends from this region some ten years ago. Your first problem would be to find a place to stay overnight. Of course, you would find a permanent place, but it would take time. You must make some temporary arrangement. You book a nearby hotel – little costlier one – but not a big problem for a couple of days. You can afford that much.

You start living at the hotel. It feels comfortable to have a cozy bed, a television set, hot water for bath, and no one to disturb. You think – homes are overrated. It should be hotels, not homes. Somehow, your stay extends at the hotel, by a day, one more day, then one more day – money become a concern now.

You find a home, a big one, scary. You need someone to clean it. Then you find out there is some problem with electricity. Finally, things happen, everything gets done. You shift yourself at the house.

You observe the new place, new people. People are obsessed with caste. Everyone asks your last name and tries to guess your caste. Some consider it quite okay to ask it directly. Fortunately, you’ve got a not-so-awkward-sounding caste. People find it okay to rent you home, etc.

Days are difficult for you. It’s the same you that you were, but then – it’s not that you. It’s like you suddenly get a wisdom tooth and start acting with worldly wisdom. You do still get some foolish attacks where you blurt out "hell with the world", but then again hold yourself up. The wisdom tooth is working – working good. Holding together – fuck it. You know you won’t be able to do that for long, but you don’t know much long is the long and you hope the long is long enough to suffice you for your life. It’s foolish.

But is it really what you hope? Don’t you sometimes secretly hope this world to burst out? Or that something should happen and you need no longer be sane? You know these are foolish hopes.

Do you know what you actually want? No, you don’t. That’s the problem with you. But it’s still okay – you’re hung between. You’re not alive and you’re not dead. It’s good eitherway than being dead or alive. And even if it is not, what can you do about it. Better, die, before death.

05 January 2015