Keeping Myself Alive..I never imagined that this would be such a difficult task, but as the daylight outside dims while I work inside a brightly, artificially lit room, I realize I am losing myself. In the midst of working and pretending to work, I start failing to see what I am working for. Though the rains outside give a watery embrace to the trees, the roads, the old yellow buildings, I sit neglected inside my room, viewing everything through a window which cannot be opened because the AC is on. So, each day is a battle to keep “what I am working for” alive. Though the “part I am working” grossly overshadows the “part I am working for”, I try nevertheless. When I come out of my “ working” place, my first instinct is to curl up on bed and sleep off. But I can’t let my day end like this; let another day go without finding myself for a few moments. So, I rush to the nearest book store and spend sometime among the familiar smell of new books. I take a book, sip a tea and watch the rain cascading over the glass panes outside. Sometimes, I just walk, on the red asphalt pavement, covered by orange and red gulmohr petals. Sometimes, I intentionally keep my umbrella inside my bag. I stop by each street vendor and taste their fare and discover a few delicacies, like the onion-less and garlic-less “ghughni” (chaat) that one old chap sells. He sits with his large pot of ghughni (which he miraculously carries on his head) on the pavement and dishes out his fare with a sour ”chutney” and onions. It’s not only the taste; his customer skills will put any hotel management student to shame. I chat with him, ask about the secret of his recipe, knowing that I won’t be able to produce the same taste. Sometimes, I go and sit in the Ramakrishna Mission, attracted by the startling peace there, though I am not a firm believer in anything. I feel nice there, being among people, trying to find life in a completely different way. My rebel feelings towards the normal way of life find refuge there. Sometimes, I take tea in totally dingy-looking, decrepit tea shops, watching people who are so different from me, but happy anyways. And in all these moments, I find myself alive, taking in each sight and sound, alert as ever. I find myself again, smiling and loving life. I keep an account with myself and each night I enter how much time I have debited to keep myself alive, to keep life inside me. The whole life has been sacrificed to be something someday, and now that I am something, I should spend my life trying to be something bigger? Nay…am not falling for that again. I am going out. It’s raining.
