Talking to the heart

In the peace that night brought with itself, I had started to revel, for that was my only solace in a foreign land. Language was a huge barrier and I was looked upon as being "not amongst them". That hurt. Initially, a bit, then a bit more, then a bit more and a bit more every passing day.

It started with a bedroom, a bathroom, a small kitchen and an equally small balcony. That was out of choice, so every compromise was met with dignity and a smile. I cooked, washed and cleaned. It was all good until a day when I realized that my desires have increased. Seemed alright. Started hunting for a spacious apartment, a cook, a maid.

Two weeks later, I fulfilled my wishes. And I had the night to my company again. Wisdom got to me every night until I fell asleep. 9 out of 10 people I met, I couldn't communicate with; but I can stamp my authority and say that at least 4 out of those 9 liked me because they'd make terrible fun of me and I won't retort. They derived pleasure and I frankly didn't care beyond a point.

As I stand on the verge of my 27th birthday, I couldn't question myself any less. In which moment did I decide that I had to travel thousands of air miles and stay away from my loved ones?
I thought I possessed the attitude of a rebel and that used to give a further push to the adrenaline. Taking this decision then gave me the silhouette of something outrageous, and hence I had to go ahead with it.

Now, I tell myself everyday that this adventure was worth going for, in the hope that I'd be convinced one day.

Who is your angel?

I had reached a stage of utmost despair. I could feel myself wrecked inside out. Things like why are children shouting so much, had started to get ounces of my attention. Incessant rains started to annoy me no bounds. Inspirational quotes no longer seemed to be anything more than unnecessary philosophy.

In a whirlwind, my life was tumbling down. When I started plummeting into my own, is a question I'm yet to fathom. Every morning, I used to wake up feeling a maniac who hated himself a bit more each moment.

I would take the liberty to say this if nobody hasn't already said it before, "Hiding doesn't mean evading. It just goes on to emphasize how mature you are to explore options when doors are all shut and windows do not open!"

And that's exactly what I did. Hid myself. My phone number gave "switched off" messages all the time. Except my family, no body knew I was out somewhere away from home in a pursuit towards self.

For the first time, I celebrated my birthday alone. A desolate soul in isolation would break anybody. At least that's what I used to believe. It was when my philosophy took a beating that I realized what an irony life itself is. That birthday spent in solitude sent my confidence two notches up and in a very strange manner I felt that the downhill fall had faced some resilience finally.

The instinct in me was coming back. Something was telling me that the journey uphill was challenging and the road discovered was hard earned. What was that voice?
Well, I never pursued an answer to that.

I focused on not losing something that was hard earned. It was time to go back home. While I was coming back, a particular thought kept crossing my mind, time and again. How many people would take the pain of rediscovering themselves by being put to such hostility.

I had my parents who gave me my struggle. Who is your angel?

A transition and a void

I felt a strange kind of peace that day. Life had been rushed and I hardly found any time to be one with myself. Suddenly, there were no phone calls, my laptop had been on hibernation since 10 hours, no loud music was playing around, a certain sort of void was creeping in. The feeling that you get when staring endlessly into a white board or a black slate. It seems like something is building up but effectively nothing is happening. A phase of life was nearing it's end. I couldn't wait but time would just not pass as if waiting for a light flicker before a final whoosh, out of the book.

I wanted to see if birds still perch at my balcony, if kids outside still play 'Hide n Seek', if TV channels still show the same reality show at 9pm, but I knew what was holding me back. Many of human tragedies have been a result of fear that finds a comfortable cushion in holds of our subconscious. I too had one.

The fear of these small things, those birds not being there, kids not lingering around, TV showing something I was not familiar with. So what it really meant for me if all these things changed?
While I was away making a mark of my own, the world was changing over. The impact I made seems effervescent, already lost in the transformation. I am nascent again. Should I start over again, and what if my world changes again?

May be I know the answers to the why's and what's and how's but still choose not to act. What once started as self-propeller is giving way and treading the easier. How I wish qualities persisted throughout, even when the pursuit is aced. Notwithstanding these, answers are still sought, for the good of me. Me, in a world left behind, but he's catching up. At least, there's a desire.