Thursday, June 16, 2011

In the Empty Streets of White Paper

My feet were tired and I was without food a famished human being. It showed in the speed of my feet and the sluggishness of my thought for my only goal in life for that moment was to relish the pleasures of gormandizing. But I still retained the ability to observe my surroundings in flashes of seconds without having the awareness that I was so doing. The roads were poorly laid down as paths to goals are and till I reached my destination I proved to be an obstacle to strangers around and they in turn to me. The cars rushed almost like in a video game except that here it was more real and less unpredictable. But for these two factors it was a trying situation where I had to ignore the callousness that one has to experience as a stranger and the action-reaction apathy that is common to the paths of strollers in the jungle of hostility. This is where I know without having to be told that this is all I could expect because what was in was out in shades of variable contexts.

There was no urgency for me to look around and savour the buildings and shops that would remain obscure to my observation till I reached the Joint where I could grub with my friend. Once we reached we were torn by the breeze and the chill filled our nerves with frozen blood quite unfamiliar because each time we faced the chill it would not disappear by familiarity as these moments were unlearned by the instinct that blinded our beings. I have been to Joints before and so has my friend but never as men having to face a forlorn psyche that was made to believe that it was in the eye of a storm.

Once we finished grubbing like wolves that were denied food for ages we rushed out as we had done with the place. I understand that where money is accounted for one heaves relief and is happy to be dropped in the wasteland where nothing else need be accounted for. The buildings this time I could savour, the shops this time gave way for a more cherished recompense and the walk back to the abode of the hostel was not in need of the feverish urgency which had accompanied the two of us before. But as we returned I noticed that the same buildings which I refused to notice disappeared as my eyes gazed around. There was a heated dispute at the gate and we had no mind to wait and see. But none of this ever penetrated my psyche which was visible only to the anxieties of prestige. I learnt that what is relevant to prestige is judgement that determines its self-worth and this is what fills the nerves with frozen blood. In circumstances where one has to toil to find a way out of the abyss one merely moves to another with its set of dark colours. If the paint brush is in one's hands it is absurd indeed to paint empty sheets of paper with colours in vain.

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