He furiously scrubbed the paper with the eraser, and tried drawing again. The curve faltered again, and even the slighest error ruined the picture for him. With a deep sigh, he started scrubbing again, more gently this time.
Another one of those (frequent) resets in my life. Like a Windows 98 installation. Gets “bloated” over time and needs frequent re-installs (resets). Hmm. Hope it lasts longer this time around.
Of late, an event occurred that disturbed me immensely for it defied logic and try as I may, I was unable to explain the incident in a logical manner. It happened a couple of days back. After lunch (in my bedroom, what with me being quarantined and all), I went to the bathroom to wash my hands. I noticed that the mug was in the bowl of the toilet (and not in the bucket where it usually hangs out). It took a whole 2 seconds for this to sink in. For a split second, the part of my brain infested with primitive fears and base instincts jumped to the conclusion ‘Ghost!!’. However, the rest of my brain kicked in immediately and reasoned that there must be a logical explanation for this. As I washed my hands, I pondered on this strange incident. The bucket was at a much lower height than the toilet and even so, no wind strong enough could reach inside to blow it in. I certainly hadn’t dropped it in or left it on the shelf from where it might have fallen in. My mind raced searching for explanations, and panicking that it couldn’t find any. I had taken a bath an hour back and it was in the bucket then. How could it have moved on its own (apparently)? My theories started growing wilder and wilder. Maybe the handle snagged on my towel, and when I left the bathroom, dragged it into the toilet. I stopped. Ok, that sounded stupid even to me! It slowly dawned on me that the possible explanation was a very unsettling one, and no, it wasn’t one that shook my entire belief system. The most possible explanation was that I had accidentally knocked it into the toilet and didn’t even remember one bit of it. I staggered back as if hit physically. For those who wonder why, its because I have always suspected that I have memory issues, even complete lapses, but this, was something I was not prepared for. To forget incidents that occurred when I was half-asleep or distracted with work/hobbies was one thing, but to forget something in “broad daylight” when I was in my full senses (relatively speaking of course) was definitely scary. The words “short term amnesia” and “Alzheimer’s” marqueed across my brain. Think as I may, no other explanation made sense, and the pale, translucent, spooky ones were definitely not logical to me. Unsurprisingly, this incident left me disturbed for a while, until another memory lapse wiped this from my active train of thoughts till yesterday.
I was taking my regular afternoon shower, and once done with that, I set about cleaning the bathroom which mostly involved just Dettol-ing the floor and washing it away with scoops of water from the bucket. Once the floor looked relatively Dettol-free, I turned towards the door and was throwing the mug back when I stopped myself. I looked back incredulously at my hand which had aimed the mug at the toilet. Realization came crashing down on me. Damn! Me and my “complex reflexes”!! Not the first time that my so-called “acquired reflexes” have come back to bite me. The repetitive process of throwing back the mug once I was done, had slowly grown into an acquired reflex associated with turning to leave the bathroom. As such, the control for that passed to some other part of my brain which obviously had a dismal sense of aim. Hmm, or maybe there was nothing wrong with its aim since it was aiming right for the toilet bowl. Maybe there was something wrong with the logical circuits there. Bucket – container. Closet – container. Put mug container. See container. Throw at container. Sigh! The toilet just happened to be the nearer “container”. I don’t know if I should be scared or just resign myself to being a complex bundle of simple pieces trying to group together and pass itself off as an “intelligent” human being (homo complexio simplo sapius?)
another year older..
none the wiser..
It took supreme will power to drag myself out of bed. Transiting from a warm cozy bed to the cold floor was not easy, but with supreme will power, I finally managed to drag myself to the bathroom. A little later, I was dressing up, quite lazily, to go for work. Putting on several layers of clothing, I wondered whether all this was necessary, for my body seemed to have adapted to the cold. Anyway, I put all of them on, looking very much like a punk-age, shady private-eye. Finally, I had all my things packed into the shoulder bag and ready to leave. The sight that met my eye when I opened the front door, is hard to forget.
It looked like something straight out of a christmas post card. Small cottages with pine trees all around. Snow dancing with the wind, draping everything. I enjoyed this beautiful scene for a whole second until I realized that I was freezing. All the layers I had pulled on, were no match for the snow. Hugging myself tight, I ran to the restaurant to have my breakfast, with the snow blowing into my face.
One thing I came to realize from this incident is that snowflakes that stay on my nose and eyelashes are NOT among my favourite things. Yeah, they are really pretty, but only if they dont touch you. Or if you are a polar bear.
“This is my December..
This is my time of the year..
This is my December..
This is all so clear..”
I alight from the bus and take a deep breath. Here I am again, alone in the big city. A slight tug in my chest reminds me that this time would be the last time. So it’s all ending tonight, I muse. I look around at the tall buildings that surround me and let that emotion wash over me, the one I cherish, the one I can never explain, the one that dissolves away my past and my future and leaves me lost and alone. Sometimes I wonder why I crave for this feeling, despite the loneliness it brings. Always, I have no answer.
“This is my December..
This is my snow covered home..
This is my December..
This is me alone..”
I close my eyes and take in the sounds of the bustling night life around me. Again the question arises in my mind – why do I like to come here alone? I love being with my friends and it’s not like I want to take time off for myself. Then what is it that gives me this inexplicable thrill, the moment I set foot in the great city? Is it the feeling of adventure, of uncertainity? Or was it the feeling of independence and the foolish notion that I was a big boy now, and can venture into the real world on my own? Maybe it was all of this, and maybe it was none of these.
“And I…
Just wish that I didn’t feel like there was something I missed..
And I…
Take back all the things I said to make you feel like that..”
Tonight, the feelings were a little different. In a few hours, I would be leaving all this behind forever. Most of my friends have already left. Maybe that compounded the loneliness. I knew for sure that my life was changing. Gone were the days of carefree frolicking. I knew my heart would linger here for a while, after the rest of my body has departed. I reflect on my days here and realize that the only regret I have was of having to leave this place.
“And I..
Just wish that I didn’t feel like there was something I missed..
And I..
Take back all the things I said to you..”
I knew I had to hurry. As much as I didn’t want to leave this place, I definitely didn’t want to get stranded here after all my friends had left. A hurried dinner, alone. I look around. I knew I would miss each and every place in this city that I have been to. So many memories. So many memories. A quick auto ride and I arrive at my final destination for the night – the bus. I leave all my luggage inside and just saunter around the bus.
“And I give it all away..
Just to have somewhere to go to..
Give it all away..
To have someone to come home to..”
Something stabs me in the chest when the bus starts pulling out of its station. I can’t believe that everything was ending and that I was actually leaving everything behind. That all the happiness I had found in this place would soon become just memories of the past. And in my panic, I was alone. No one was there to hold me and tell me that it is gonna be ok. That life goes on and we have to move on. I close my eyes and sink back into the seat. Everything that has a beginning, after all, must have an end.
As the bus gathered speed and sped into the long, dark highway, I sat quiet, lost in disturbing thoughts. I was leaving home from college for the last time. Four years of fun filled days spent in the company of loving friends has come to an end and travelling back alone almost felt symbolic. My uneasiness kept me from falling asleep despite a tiring day of tear-filled farewells. Lines from a popular farewell song kept coming up in my thoughts and I kept pushing them back. Time sped by as I sat lost to the world around me. Memories of places and faces flashed by in front of my eyes and I felt my eyes moisten up.
The bus came to a halt and my mind snapped back to the present. The driver was yelling at us to be back in half an hour. I get out of the bus and look around. It’s the same “drive-in” restaurant they always stop at. With a deep sigh, I walk in, occupy an empty table and place my order. While waiting for the food, I scan the room for familiar faces. A quiet face sitting alone at a table at the other end of the room catches my attention. I rack my brains trying to figure out why he looks so familiar. Was it someone I’ve met in college? Or some distant relative whose name has slipped my mind? Suddenly, with a start, I recognize him. The memories start flooding in – painful memories. Alagappa. A name that I have not been able to forget for so many years.
It was eleven years ago. I had just come back from summer vacation and all geared up for the academic year. That year I had shifted from the school bus to a private tempo service. One day, this strange looking guy comes up to me and starts talking to me like he knows me. Bewildered, I ask him who he is and when he reaches out to touch my arm, I panic and push him away. With a hurt look on his face, he walks away. For several days after that, I was disturbed by the memories of this incident. Who was this guy and why did he behave like that? After a while, I figure out how he knows me and the realization startles me. I had met him a month before the summer vacation. He was in the school bus with me and with a couple of days, we had become good friends. He was a year senior to me and he loved me like his brother. I too liked him and we used to go home together. Then came the two month long summer vacation and over these two months, I had forgotten a dear friend. The very thought of it made me sick and suddenly the reason for the hurt in his face became apparent. I had forgotten him but he hadn’t forgotten me. His face kept haunting me ever since, but I, somehow, lacked the courage to go out and make up with him. A few weeks later, during the morning assembly, the principal announced that Alagappa would be reciting a poem that day. Hearing the unusual name, many of the students giggle, till the principal’s stern voice quitens them. Trembling and clearly nervous, Alagappa comes to the mike and in a shaking voice recites the poem. After the poem was done, Alagappa quickly steps away from the mike. No one shows any signs of appreciation and soon Alagappa and his poem are forgotten. Soon I stop seeing him around the campus. On enquiring I find out that he had transferred to another school. And no one knew why. Was he unable to adjust to the school and the people here? Or did his parents have to move somewhere and he had to leave too? I guess I will never know.
The guilt of treating a friend the way I did, of jilting someone who had loved me, haunts me to this day. And now, Providence has given me another chance. Another chance to quiet the ghosts that haunt me. Here he was, sitting in the same room as I was. He had noticed me looking at him but obviously hadn’t recognized me. With trembling hands, I stand up and slowly approach him. I knew I wanted to apologize to him for how I treated him but I had no idea how to start. Even before I could figure out where to start, I ran out of time as I had reached his table. He looks at me with a puzzled expression on his face. I ask, ‘Alagappa?’. For a moment he is silent. Then he says, ‘No. Maybe you have mistaken me for someone you know?’. I shake my head and walk back to my seat quickly. Was I wrong? The face was exactly how I remembered. Was it a look-alike? Or was that really the Alagappa I knew? If so, why did he deny it? Had he recognized me and pretended to be someone else? Or had he changed his name for ‘Alagappa’ had evoked much ridicule, and had decided to let go of the past? My thoughts were interrupted by the arrival of the food. I slowly chew on my food, hardly enjoying it. I look up to see his face again, and it’s gone. He was gone. I look around but see no sign of him. I get and run outside but there was no one there. I ask the man at the counter and he remembers someone matching the description leaving a short while ago. I walk back in, only to be reminded by the impatient blowing of the bus horn, that my thirty minutes were up. Quickly washing my hands, I board the bus. As the bus pulls away from the restaurant, I look once more at place where I had seen him, hoping that somehow, magically, he would return. But the seat remained empty.