The fan-blades swoosh as they repeatedly churn the air mixing it with whatever little breeze manages to enter the room. I look around. The laptop screen show me nothing inspiring; the coffee in my cup is a depressing cold brown; my diary has new creases ; a pen’s cover stares up at me, blankly and pictures clicked by my seniors of sunsets, boats, roads, beaches and clouds maintain a platonic silence. I turn my attention to my prized possession : my make-shift bookshelf which is nothing but the metal study table in my room. I’ve stacked it one against the other in no participate order, aesthetic or otherwise. Also accompanying them are an array of spiritual idols. A black, clay Buddha; a gold-Bronze Ganesha, etc- I cannot say if its bhakti or is it just my love for idols. The serenity in the Buddha’s face will take you to another level.
Any way, even they didn’t hold my interest for long and my morbid thoughts were catching up with me. I needed distraction, nothing my phone could offer. It was filled with everything I didn’t need. My eyes fell upon a framed photo of My parents and me (sandwiched between the two) cutting my third birthday cake. I have short, curly hair and a plump-fair face with pink cheeks (always been an excited kid) wearing this huge frilly frock (I’m sure it had been tough for them because I hated and still hate pokey bet clothes)
My stream of thoughts change course: from endless project submission, anxiety, sleep-deprivation to wonder.
How did that popo little blob of happiness turn into whoever I am. How did the mind start thinking so complexly. How did that small person survive these many days? Did she ever know this was what her future would be? I wonder and I feel that we waste ourselves chasing too many unnecessary things. What matters in the end is : ourself. Our memories. Our ties with the people we love; the places that gave us our experiences; the experiences that changed us and the change that makes us look back in awe.
Are we doing enough? Or are we over- compensating for every minute we lost, every dream we failed, every person we drifted away from et all. Is living in the now really that tough? Are we fighting for the right Things? Or romanticising our follies until we turn into fools?
I wonder. I turn away. And I stare at that blank computer screen. It will devour us all under the pretext of forced entertainment, work, socialising, knowledge and what-all.