Of A Kind

She rushed up the staircase searching, looking for someone who could help her. Anyone. This was panic at its peak - she had to do something so vile that she dreaded it and yet, it had to be done pronto. In her flurry of emotions, she could not think of anyone who could help. The place was so crowded but it could have been an empty office on a Sunday night.

In the corridor she saw him, just about to turn into an open door. There was a vicious air about him. His companions looked more like co-conspirators, in a hurry to leave. She ran towards them just out of having nothing better to do. These were the kinds she had always dreaded and yet only they could have understood the urgency looming over her. The moving crowd made it difficult for her to reach to them. He had almost turned into the door when she caught his eye. Her face betrayed emotions her words could not have explained in such a short time. He stopped and turned. His companion touched his shoulder. This was not the time to waste.

She stopped few steps short almost in tears now. Tears of relief - because he had stopped. He motioned his companion to go ahead - he would be joining them in a minute. As he came towards her in a couple of long strides, all he asked was "What happened?".

He noticed that her eyes were brown. All these days, they had steered clear of each other's presence. It was a matter of principles and what they did. Each one in their heart of hearts knew that the other cannot be convinced - perspectives after all differ. But it was fine - they could co-exist as long as they did what they had to do. And he noticed that her lower lip pouted when she cried. "Like a baby" he thought.

He did not know exactly how to react to this outburst so he guided her to the nearest pillar next to the wall - it shielded her from the looks of strangers in the corridor. And then he muttered "OK fine, what do I have to do?". Her head jerked in his direction and now she was suddenly quite. She had not expected this nonchalant attitude to her grave issue. Her mind raced. But then knowing him she also knew that he meant it to a certain degree.

She blinked. She felt relief flooding all over her. She was suddenly calm. She felt like giggling. Only he could have this affect on her. Unexpected. She looked up to his waiting face and he could see that her mind was made. And his eyes widened in disbelief.

At the Prospect

"Head for the door", someone screamed and a mad rush overcame the group. They forgot the camaraderie that had been almost forced upon them by the flagrant situation and ran for their lives. 

Jim chuckled. He had counted on this reaction. "Fools!" he muttered and headed towards the back of the room. He was never in the favor of having a troop so divided - in spirit. If it was upto him, he would have handpicked the able bodied men from his old settlement and worked out a plan. But High Command had insisted that they needed numbers rather than head-strong men at this crucial hour. 

He leaned against the wall and slowly reviewed the now empty room. His expression was saddened. He wanted to move but he was dejected. He knew this was coming all along and somehow it did not matter any more. He drew a cigar from his left pocket of his warm coat and scrummaged for the lighter in his right one. He had some time to savor this last bit of luxury and he was thoughtful as he drew his first drag. 

He could hear the cries that filled the streets and they brought him back from his reverie. He moved briskly to extinguish the only lamp to his right. The room was draped in darkness. It could be a matter of minutes. They would come in and take him away. He could run out and expose himself to danger or stay in here and take a chance. He settled for the latter. 

As he waited, his mind filled with the most trivial of affairs, he thought of why he had never learnt to dance. He knew he could not do that to save his life. He wished he had died last winter when he caught that bad case of influenza. That would have better than being arrested, now wouldn't it? May be they won't kill him after all. May be they will not even consider him to be important enough. He pondered laboriously as to why he should not die - he could not recall a clear reason to live. He had seen it all, done it all and forgotten none of it. But somehow living seemed harmless compared to being dead in sometime. What if he can kill himself now? He was not strong enough to do that - he smiled wryly. His state of mind seemed very casual as he slowly turned each thought around in his head and this seemed to please him greatly. 

Death could only be the one thing he had not experienced and he might as well present himself to this latest opportunity. So he took long puffs and settled on a chair in the corner, as he waited and soon got lost in his thoughts. 

Hills and Beyond

There is this side of me that is totally fascinated by living and traveling in a certain way. It is the side that wishes for a small cottage in the foothills of a mountain or a remote corner of a lesser known hill. A place where I can read and write and spend my days away from civilization as I know it - for days.

To search and to discover

Things that are profound

Right in front of everyone 

Yet hidden for long...

Every man is an end in himself

"Man—every man—is an end in himself, not a means to the ends of others; he must live for his own sake, neither sacrificing himself to others nor sacrificing others to himself; he must work for his rational self-interest, with the achievement of his own happiness as the highest moral purpose of his life." | The Ayn Rand Column ‘Introducing Objectivism’.


I know that the above quote can create a flurry of comments anywhere but the way I look at it is - if an individual is not happy, they can never make another individual happy. The whole thought of being good to everyone springs from the being of a happy person, not a sad, irritated, dissatisfied person. And everyone's happiness lies in something different, so being selfish about achieving that by "neither sacrificing himself to others nor sacrificing others to himself" should be our aim. This would automatically take care of the individual's attitude towards everyone else around. 


It seems such a simple thought and such an intuitive one, which if followed the way it was meant to, is really revolutionary.

Innocence

Remembering the times that were innocent in every aspect. 

No complications, just heartfelt actions. No fear. Just courage.
The world turns one into a very careful pessimist. 

And suddenly things that were easy to do, become the most complicated things ever.

Words change their meaning. Simplest of them.

People change. Closest of them.

And then we love everything that reminds us of that pristine, pure days of Innocence. 

Days that can never come back.

Being Yourself

People want to be themselves with age. 
But that is difficult.
 Given that the world would prefer a well presented sham instead. 


Pretend and please

Not a soul to forgive

for being yourself, really 


At the table

As we sat there on the table, it suddenly felt pointless. My focus shifted from being a part of it, to observing us. Suddenly I was seeing faces, expressions, body language and eyes. The table was full of people with different aspirations, at different stages of their lives with very different stories. And they all seemed either equally interested or equally bored or equally being what they were supposed "to be", on that table. The conversation was totally random, and yet somehow same.

Essay

If you have to write a one page essay of how your life has been so far, something that only you can see, what would it feature?
Now imagine if you had to re-write this one page essay when you're 70, given that you live till 70, what would it feature?
Today might not even be in it. What would be in it?