wilderness

So I moved for good. First time in my life, trying the forlorn department, I rented a house all by myself. It was weird how time, age, work and circumstances didn’t let a roomie squeeze through, as it used to in the past, and I was stuck with, you know, the old ragged Scotty in the mirror. So here I was. Alone. In an entire unit. Singing Celine Dion’s ‘All By Myself’.

I still remember how I got here. Desperation oozing through the sweats of impatience, topped with trickles of frustration, I raced through every other ‘To Let’ that internet hurled at my face. With some help from a fellow team-mate I zeroed in on a rental that seemed promising. Only in the beginning to be precise. From the ring of it. 1 BHK not too far from my work place. Price sounded reasonable. No brokers to chase. Inundating water supply. Parking space. In short – No problemo.

I drove to give it a look. The place was in a galaxy far far away. As I drove, whilst my landlord directed me to the spot, the fact that the locality was an outskirt bummed me instantly. With a disappointed heart, I rode my bike like a zombie. The new societal venture had street lights with no bulbs, a majority of the houses still under construction, shitty street that cannot be called a road, labours for neighbours and a promise of a short-cut that would take me to my office quick. In other words perfect. I went inside the building and to my surprise everything seemed nice and cosy. Rooms were spacious and beaming. I couldn’t think of any other reason, apart from the aforementioned obvious ones, not to shake the spit-slimy hand of my landlord to seal the deal.

As I called it mine, I moved in and had a house-warming bash at once with friends to celebrate the seizure. I was told by the owner that my floor would be shared by another family that would grab the reins after twenty days, and then I would have an official neighbour to bother for little stuff. The back of my mind however held this notion of solitude for the next twenty days.

Here, I was like a ghost in the entire building. The nearest main road flowed a kilometre away. My street had no street lights that lit. At night it went so dark, it reminded me of my village. Crickets chirped like they were having sex. The front yard is an empty space with wicked shrubbery that has decided to grow its hair long and flunk the barber. It has all sorts of creatures in its heart. One day a rabbit jumped out of the blue onto the street few inches ahead of my front wheel and hopped like a rabid dog. He raced me to the main road. What piqued me was the fact that it ran 400 meters, that too in the light that my bike emanated. I was like, “Why bother? Was it a dare from other bunnies?” Funny business going on there. Or should I say Bunny business?

Running parallel to the stream of houses is a polytunnel, which I can see clearly from my first floor window. The Polyhouse breathes even at night and a constant buzzing sound is inevitable. Things aren’t quite visible due to the obscurity. The way the entire thing handles reassures me of the fact that there must be a mad scientist bent on world domination working his ass off there. I bet if I drop by unannounced, I would find thousands of clones hanging on prongs.

At times we have power outage. Night time isn’t spared as well. Once I returned from a movie late night, and found lights out. I stood there fumbling with the keys in utter darkness. With unsure steps I was busy making my mind whether to enter the house or not. With the mobile battery in its deathbed, I still made it, and slipped right into my bed.

All of this happened in those twenty days. Now the neighbours have showed up. They are really quiet, so basically it feels like nothing’s changed. Meanwhile my landlord did ‘the talk’ with the builder and it seems street lights will be up and running within a month. So that is good news.

Sometimes I think living alone is inevitable in one’s span. Like the banishment Rama faced in Valmiki’s head or what Pandavas had to go through just because Vyasa said so. It gives you a better perspective about the mundane, lets you have ample amount of time with yourself, and brushes you up for proper introspection quite often.

Whatever phase life offers, I just love it. Solitude has made me stand on my feet. I dedicate the extra time I get to ink more now. I was never into cleanliness. Now, I am drifting towards health and hygiene. I have become bolder. I am no longer afraid of the dark. I tell myself if there is something supernatural, I would like to see it. I am tired of the mundane. I want a miracle. I want something exciting, like a fantasy or an outrageous imagination to apparate into truth.

I do not really feel forsaken as my friends keep me company during weekends. Weekdays go equally great as they dispense real quick in office. Besides I have every basic amenity charged up and working. It’s not that bad. I can make do.

But this right here, it feels like I went into the wilderness, just with a lot of cool gadgets.

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Comments
  1. […] I lived in a terrible house once. It was more of my own doing. My life was constantly going through a rare pandemonium escaping from which would give me immense euphoria. So I finally escaped people. You could read all about the rental and how bad it was here: The Rental in my Wilderness […]

  2. […] I had told you about, if you have been reading me for a while. Read Dud Horror in the inanimate and A Rental in the Wilderness if you […]

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