After the evening drizzle...............

A thin veil of soft mist hangs in the evening air. The downpour has just tapered into a drizzle before stopping. It's as if the whole world has been washed clean by the rain gods.

Freshness...a new life--everywhere. People move around briskly, with a spring in their steps. Evening walkers and joggers, students holding on with all their life to their notebooks, giggling couples, a shy boy and a worried girl, a busy executive barking on his mobile, a groundnut vendor, a little girl who walks around with a photo of God, asking for alms, an old man sitting alone on the park bench, a wide-eyed baby looking over his mother's shoulders.........this microcosm outside my workplace has suddenly come alive. I spend a little while longer walking through the parks and residential streets on my usual evening stroll. A strange silence amidst an active atmosphere. A freshness within too.

'I don't give a shit anymore.'

'Don't get antagonistic.'

'No. I'm not. It's just that I'm clearing some debris'.

'How're things otherwise?'

'Life's getting screwed up. I'm sick of the same routine that plays on and on, day in and out. There's no meaning ......'

'Have you tried to search for some meaning? Are you seriously on a quest to seek out this meaning? What do you want, honestly'

' First, to get rid of this nagging feeling on wastefulness--that there's no bloody purpose to my daily life, that I'm just drifting along....'

' I guess, you're running away from anything that's unpleasant. And all that you're interested in is some pleasant experience, something that gives you a thrill, a satisfaction even if it's shortlived. You want to feel wanted, feel important.You're after success, running like mad away from any notion of failure. Or you're oscillating between things you've labelled as Success and Failure, irrespective of their true nature. If you're stuck between these two, then there's no escape from your drudgery. You'll run in circles for the rest of your life, feeling satified when there's a kick, blaming the world or yourself when shit comes your way and deluding yourself that things are going to be fine some day in the future...'

' What'm I supposed to do, then?'

'Ask yourself over and over, in silence, in calmness. What are you searching for? What's that you want, truly? Where does your frustration with yourself and others stem from? Ask and keep asking until you feel you have a glimmer of an answer. You'll find it, soon. But begin to ask. Begin introspecting. Watching.'

'I've had these introspections earlier.....'

'Do it again, without seeking a pleasing answer,without expecting something familiar, something that fits in with the known pattern. Search for answers, even if they rattle you. Keep searching until something rings in from within as authentic.'

'Mumbo jumbo....'

'Never mind.'

Cynical

An ant crawls close. You push it away. It comes back, determined to cross the floor only in this direction. You push away, harder this time. Ten seconds later it's back again. You clench a fist and thump it hard....and throw away what's left of it.

Madness. Self-hatred. Squemish. Stand your ground. Take a deep breath. You'll not die, c'mon.

I'm not myself. I don't like it.


Unfinished...but started after so long....

The boy was unusually silent that morning. His favourite uncle was leaving and the very thought would fill up his dark, round eyes. He remembered his mother's words, 'Boys don't cry,' again and again but couldn't help shed a tear or two, as he sat in the courtyard, working out the math sums.

The Man checked his luggage one last time. The sky was overcast and the weather sullen. 'It shouldn't rain until I cross the mountains,' he thought, as he looked around one last time. Everyone in the household were carrying on with their work--even the little boy looked busy with his homework.

The mountains stretched from one end of the horizon to the other, encompassing 15 villages in its belly. Morning mist hung on the densly forested peaks, where only the largest birds could perch.

*

'Are you going away forever?' the little boy asked feebly.

The man thought for a moment and, not wanting to make him cry, assured, 'No, I shall return next winter.'

The Mist got denser every minute. The mountains stood cloaked in ....

This is good

'Angry?'

'Slightly.'

'Grow up.'

'I have.'

'How?'

'I'm not angry anymore.'

'You shouldn't feel hurt at all.'

'That's difficult.'

'But possible. Try it.'

'Next time I'll watch out.'