Random Thoughts

With or without intentions my eyes would always sway away in the direction of the terrace of girl’s hostel that was at the end of the street where I lived. There was no telling why I would look in that direction even when I couldn’t recognise any face neither I knew anyone living there. The hostel was only one block away. From my home I could figure out some bleak yet elementary characteristics that would walk and sit there during the evening hours. I could see many of those girls talking on phones for endless hours, girls who would just chat in a group, girls who would just lean against the railings and appeared lost in the emptiness of their own thoughts. The purpose of their terrace would be many but it often caught my thought and had me staring into the direction and wondering. I’ve always fancied to look away at the people at far distance doing their regular tasks be it anything and I wonder simply sitting at my own place, sitting at the boundary wall next to my beloved grapevines and wondering about those people if I had ever or if I would ever encountered them, maybe we crossed our way, wondering about the thoughts that might be running into their minds while they seem lost and enjoyed their solitary retreat. There would be no count of time that I had spend in those summer evenings, lying at my terrace boundary wall all the way absorbed in my own thoughts. I would often catch the glimpse of people from the other side looking into my directions but I could never tell if they were smiling or simply looking away. It was a weird contraption that seems to be in function that would make two strangers, sitting so far to even make out the faces, look into each other’s directions but it would often give me a sense of relief and reflected in an unusual sense of fascination and unuttered desolation. And these thought would appear simultaneously. I felt like I somehow wanted to escape into this unknown block, peeping into the rooms of those people living there and figure out what they were doing. Those figures walking behind those windows have become my idea of amusement and I would catch myself always in the pursuit of answer to outline the lives of every walking soul at that distance. There was no telling why I would do that but I knew that long before the lights of that hostel went off, I give myself enough credit to crawl an inch closer to my quest. And it wouldn’t matter if that makes me look like a perverted stalker, I could only assume myself in the great words someone wrote for Sherlock, “I don’t stalk. I investigate”.