Posts Tagged ‘head’

The Perpendicular Universe unfinished

Been a while, I haven’t penned anything on these leaves. I have been lost in the humdrum of the mundane. A job that sucks me in, and eats away my precious hours. Takes me away from the world of writing. But these special leaflets are always there. In the backdrop of my head. Silently calling me. Making me feel the void. Trying to make its presence felt. Then life manages to put me in front of the screen somehow, as if the croons of this blog get heard.

I wish to press these leaves with only the best. Maybe that’s what takes a lot of time. To only fill the easel with quality work. My brother had asked me to keep it as a wont, when I am in the right zone. To him it is one of my best collections hitherto, a magnum opus weaved with a keen wisdom. I intend to keep it that way. It lets me unspool myself, the real me, into validation. An introspection of sorts that might reflect the real me to a reader if there is one at all.

Today, I am squeezed into work so much that this blog stays hidden from me. I distribute myself to others, so much that I forget my own identity. But this right here, this, lets me appreciate myself. When I take a step back to look at it, I realize it is nothing but my mirror. It lets me behold the real me. It lets me fathom myself more. Words smeared on these blanks tell me that I am different. It lets me dig deeper into a head of a writer, a poet who is insanely in love with words, with a brain uplifted and a head that reeks of beautiful and sentient thoughts.

What is unfortunate is the fact that he barely has time to cover ‘em all. There is so much beauty yet to read, so many wonderful people yet to encounter, so many experiences yet to experience, so much land yet to cover, so much love yet to shower, so many unknown faces yet to scan, so many enthralling creations yet to marvel at, and there are so many gorgeous thoughts in his skull still embryonic, veiled, that can only unfurl with time. It’s a shame that it’s running out.

Advertisements

Image

I ended up working late in the office yesterday. Actually, it was planned. With a consensus between me and my project lead, it was decided that I would pump in some extra hours in order to complete a pending job. Yeah, work I did. But I didn’t foresee that I would be all alone.

It was the first time I was all by myself in the office and that too after the sunset. I worked till 8 PM, additional 2 hours, from my usual time of leaving. The peon had switched off the lights, those not required, and so the rest of the cubicles went pitch dark. I hardly cared as I was busy with my work. I had constantly been glaring at the screen, which was unrelenting too. My orbs would hurt. I was feeling the way I used to, when I would sometimes succumb to insomnia. I badly needed a shuteye. I would occasionally get up from my seat, and peek from the window, down at the traffic. The hustle and bustle below kept me company the whole time.

Whenever I would come back to my seat and engage myself in useful work, I would hear the ticking of the clock, occasional honks of the cars below, din of a drilling machine coming from the building next to ours and sometimes loud shrill of something, which my mind would always confuse with heavy breathing. It was spooky. I know it is hard to work in such an environment. It was eerie. Yet there was nothing that really bothered me as such. I guess, time has made me brave, unconcerned and intelligent.

Yet in the back of my mind, all those scenes from the flick ‘The Grudge‘ kept visiting my head. Yeah, remember that office bit? I would occasionally turn around to check the plant which stood in the dark, that had a bizarre resemblance to a human being, when looked from a particular angle. I would tilt my chair occasionally to have a good look at the door in order to eschew any out of the blue surprises. Even if someone tried to play a prank at such an hour, it was still not good for the heart, so I thought.

Amongst all that non-existent commotion, I worked my way through, without getting consciously alarmed of anything mentioned above, and groped for the switch in the dark to turn off the remaining lights.

At this point, I remembered, how as a kid I used to be strangely conscious of everything around me. I would startle at every movement or noise. I wouldn’t go to sleep for hours, wondering if a monster would come up from under my bed and devour me. I would endeavor my best to avoid watching horror shows on TV, so as to shun any formidable memories later at night. There used to be a spot at my balcony, where I would always study unaffected and unaware of my surroundings on a regular basis. I believed it helped me to understand things better, with the view and all. Until one day I saw a horror show on TV. From that point onwards, I wouldn’t even go to my balcony, wondering, “What if a hand comes from behind and grabs me?”

I am glad now sense has slipped in. I ‘now’ desire for miracles. I want them to happen. So that I behold the unusual.

I don’t understand if fear is good or bad. The only thing I get is that, it is there. It has always been there. It is real. Just in different forms, in all of those eras we lived. We have simply named them. Human minds are built this way. We can’t help being apprehensive. We can’t help being afraid of the extraordinary.

We would always be afraid. Sometimes for a reason, sometimes without one. It is one of the harsh truths of life, which I surmise, keeps us in check, all the time.