Sound through vacuum

I woke up before dawn broke and rode into the light with a weary heart and a heavy head. And I touched the clouds today. I’ve never felt so close to the clouds before. I’ve never seen the chilly mist descend from the skies above as I stand in a path that’s aimlessly meandering through the forest, much like I seem to through life. I was on my period and my body revolted with every step but I put my faith in my feet and it was surreal. On the ride back to the city, in broad daylight, I couldn’t believe that it had only been a few hours ago when the mist around me was white, and not black. Time did stand still. There was so much green and so much white. There was a moment when my body was worn out and I did not know where the path led nor how much time would pass till I would see civilisation again, and so I stood in the middle of the forest. The rain fell in sheets and the clouds poured in all around with an almost tangible mist. It was cold. I stood and absorbed every sound I could. The sound of the pitter-patter of the rain on the forest floor – so different from the pitter-patter of the rain in the city. The sound of the always rustling leaves. The sound of birdsong. The sound of the quietness in me.  It was extra-terrestrial. Words will not do it justice nor will pictures. It’s in my head and it’s better inside my head.

Will you see inside my head?

I would not rather. It will create civilization. It will tempt me to take out things and give in some things. Manipulations. Moulding. Let it be a mystery. Open. Wide. Infinite. We will keep on guessing.

Rather, I will tell you a story:

Someone was drinking with some other one. Each was trying to mock the other. They were slowly revealing the others truth just by guess. Arbitrary guess to the perfection. They could read the question playing in the mind of the other and they answered the others question to perfection. Perhaps that’s why people drink. They were slowly reaching a state, a combined one, where one could not bear the other though the opposite could also hold quite mysteriously. Then they decided to stop. They understood that it was impossible to reach that state. That state was meant to be left vacant for the lovers to love. 

One of them left only to return at the same place. The other one waited there for some more time. Then he thought why he should wait. Why does that thing always mesmerize him? A third person came from nowhere just nowhere and answered simply like an ad agency writer who writes those sexy lines for others to get stuck inside it forever. ‘To mesmerize you’. Then he left opening a new world to the other one. He slowed down. Drank a cup of sugary tea. He boarded a bus. He sat beside a window. The bus started. He fell asleep. He slept like an imaginary character from Ramayan called Kumbhakarna. After days he woke. The bus stop where he was supposed to get down had passed. He had missed calls from home. The conductor asked him to pay the ticket. He took out an arbitrary ticket from his pocket and showed it to the conductor. The conductor got satisfied and told him to get down like a father to enter a newer world. He had lost his sense of direction for again a time. It was spinning locally like an electron in a local field. He travelled towards the direction where the bus went, perhaps inertia played locally. Then he got rid of the emotion and turned. He put his hand inside his jeans pocket. He could not find his handkerchief. Perhaps the bus stole it. He looked back to see how far the bus had gone. Seemed quite a bit. Let it go. He ran towards his home.

Scribble: Just throw it. That’s all we can do.

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