It’s Sunday. Almost the end of
it. 10.30 in the clock. The media player is playing tracks from “The perks of
being a wallflower”. I loved the movie more than anything than the fact that I
consider could see a reflection of mine in Charlie’s character. There was a
sense of subtly and a kind of truthfulness in that character that would not be
appreciated by a lot. But rather be tagged and then hurled around calling it a
pussy or a jackass. I don’t blame such folks. The world is just a confused
place and most people are just too stupid to comprehend any situation and
appreciate the beauty that lay in the bespoken complexities of human nature. So
as the playlist continued to play the utterly compassionate form of concealed
melodies as I browsed through the countless photographs through facebook of
those whom I ever knew celebrating their graduation. I see happy and smiling
face. Hands in hands. Throwing each other over the shoulders. Emotional comments
and long lasting promises to stay forever in touch. For that was the moment I was confronted by a
austere realism that had me wondering since then. I opened the gallery in my
laptop, browsing through hundreds of photographs and realised that there wasn’t
even a single photo that I could cherish for a moment. All those pictures of me
and my friends in which either I was missing or in which they appeared like
someone had just compelled them to put a smile on their face were mocking in
absolute wretchedness like it has been some impure form of entertainment to
them. I could look at my friends, they appeared happy while I clicked them or
when I was missing from the picture but I couldn’t reach for even one that I might
look upon in desperation and when I am low to recall those faces and think of
all those times we spend together. I look upon those dust gilded memories and
wonder whether if it was just a coincidence or an act of ignorance and
preservation of self esteem. After all I had taken my place in some of the
deepest crevices of human existence where I had no further regards and virtues
for any sort of fame and recognition. I am just too contempt with my life. I enjoy
my solitary times. I speak only to people I find worth talking to. All I ever
ask for is a plain but merry life. But to the contrary I am mocked for my music
and movies, made fun of my accent often and called for being an egoist and too
much absorbed in himself. Sometimes I wonder writing all this crap makes me look
like a sadistic asshole who disdains the joys of small things in life or
somehow who is just too blinded by his misery to see the brighter side of it. I
don’t know if anyone ever reads my blog or ever find it worth a dime but
writing all this gives me an excuse to let it out what I might be holding in my
heart otherwise. It relieves me of the agony and mental breakdowns I might
witness if I do not express them.
I wonder how many of the plans
people ever make are going to work out. Or if they will ever find a moment to
even call each other or send a text once the reality begins to consume them
all. Maybe someday they will run into each other. Maybe it will be a formal
reunion for them or maybe they will see each other from two distinct corners of
some diner, they will recognise each other. They will feel an urge to talk but
will hesitate to make a move. And then they will just smile across the distance
and walk their separate ways. I don’t know what life holds for anyone in the future
but I have a feeling that it’ll end up good. It might not be as you expected it
to be but it will be joyful and it will be worth.
In all these years ever since I ended
up in college, I have reached to a realisation that I am just an old man
trapped in a young man’s body. But of many things in our life we become, we
are infinite.
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