Something unusual happened that day. I had just received a mail about someone’s ‘Dissatisfaction regarding quantity, quality & increased food price.’ It instantly reminded me of the quote, ‘For too long, you and I have been quiet.’ I was happy that someone has gathered the courage to speak about it. Sending an email to the entire center is indeed a courageous task. You have to check and recheck the mail for spelling and grammatical mistakes. Out of habit, I refreshed the mailbox and saw a few more emails received on the same subject. I instantly ran towards pantry to brew a cup of coffee to sip while reading all the Email. Who would have imagined that reading emails could be such fun?
I always wanted to be a part of some revolution and this seemed to be the moment for me. By now unread email tally had crossed the count of 50 and everyone was vehemently expressing their distress. There were one-liners and then there were essay type emails. The MBA aspirants joined the lot and infused a heavy dose of vocabulary into the Email to make the issue authentic. It was as if everyone was waiting since ages for that one Email to begin a revolt. This was no less than a ‘Jan-Bhogpal Movement’ to me. In the middle, someone shifted the focus of issue to salary hike compared to food price hike whereas someone raised the issue of ‘city allowance’ needed to be increased along with food prices. People from varied projects joined the protest. I clicked on the ‘new mail’ tab to do my bit for the revolution. By now my coffee was also about to get finished. I wanted to write about the coffee but lethargy usurped my willingness to revolt. I chose to close the ‘new mail’ tab and started reading other emails.
People had addressed their emails to random ids, and copied their friends in it. No one was now bothered about the purpose of revolution. The sanctimonious Email had become just another medium for people to vent out. All were engrossed in saying what they wanted to say being inconsiderate of whether they were saying it to the right person. However, I was happy that after all this clamor the issue will reach to the concerned authority for sure.
Someone proposed not eat canteen food as a ‘Hunger Strike’ variant. By now, ‘I support this initiative’ was featured in every mail I was receiving. The mere thought of hunger strike in office was exciting. We have all seen it in Hindi movies. Being in IT industry, I never imagined that I would get to be a part of something of this sort. I was sure, the canteen committee members from our teams whom we were missing dearly would lead from the front during this strike.
It was 6 PM. I had consumed my coffee by now and the incoming mail frequency had reduced. Most of the emails now appeared repetitive. I heard that the administration had called a meeting at a grand hall to pacify the aggrieved lot. I am unsure of what happened in the meeting, as not much was talked about the same, neither on mail nor in person by any of my friends. I am sure; the administration provided another platform to make them feel that their voice was being heard. After all, this is what majority of the citizens of our nation get satisfied with.
By 7 PM, all the excitement seemed to have settled down as people were now planning to leave early to grab a seat on the bus. I thought of all the movements our nation has witnessed during past few years. Movements which appear promising in the beginning but fail because of our negligence or lack of patience to pursue it in the longer run. Movements that failed because we got pacified by hollow promises. Like the fate of most of the revolutions, this also was buried in trash folder of our mailbox.
The desire is to be the raindrop that is unafraid of freefall. The raindrop that sets itself free of its individuality and merges with other droplets to fill the emptiness of the river and oceans.
The train of thoughts had just started as the thunder clouds lightened his way. He could clearly hear his thoughts whistling, alarming him of the impending contemplation that is going to take a seat in his mind. Mostly, journeys are about looking outside the window to adore the overcast weather. But this journey was about looking inside the window of his mind. This journey was not about reaching somewhere but about discovering his own self. The falling rain chimes reminded him of his own individuality that was lost somewhere among the peers. “In some way, I am more like the raindrop.”, he pondered. The idea that he is somewhat like the raindrop amused him. He started enjoying the downpour more than ever. “But the raindrops have a purpose – to unite, to fill the emptiness, to coalesce and occupy every square inch of the ground”, came another voice from the corner of his heart as the train progressed through the tunnel. In dark, our deepest fears seek revelation. The train of thoughts paced up as he sought his purpose, something that will make him more akin to the raindrops. Unlike the raindrops, he never wanted to mingle with the peers. Rather he never felt he was one among them. Gloom subsided the joy on his face as he jostled to find an apt meaning of his existence. And just like every time, his mind again zeroed down to the unanswered question which follows when we are looking for a purpose in life – ‘I am happy when….’. “The ultimate purpose of life is to be happy”, he remembered the old adage.
The train of thoughts was now taking a turn. He knew that the moment had come. It was the time when one can look at both the ends of the train. He peeked inside his heart and the view of much clearer to him. He could see the last coach – the past and the engine – what lies ahead of him, the future. We ought to compare our present with the two whenever we talk of happiness. “The nostalgia of childhood memories or the thrill of an exciting future opportunity, all that is nothing but the relative happiness”, he reflected. It was just at this moment when few raindrop touched his face. It dissolved in itself the dust that was there on his haggard face. The dust on the outside was also absorbed and settled down by the rain.
The rain had stopped by now. His gaze stumbled upon a tree where there was still another raindrop clinging to a leaf. That was the moment happiness dawned upon him. He felt glad that though there were a million droplets that were showering from the sky, he was not like most of them. He realized that he was like that one raindrop that clings on to the tree leaf and refused to fall down. Or perhaps the raindrop that was soaked by tree trunk. He might also be the raindrop that fell over a million hopeful faces. The train of thoughts had finally reached the destination. And that gave him happiness.
‘This post is a part of Write Over the Weekend, an initiative for Indian Bloggers by BlogAdda.’
“Why don’t you write?”
The question assailed him again. He wanted to tell them the truth. About what writing meant to him. Why did he start writing in the first place? Perhaps it was her emotions that filled the void between his words. It was she who used to add meaning to his otherwise senseless rhymes.
He wrote a book about her beauty. She gifted the book to a stranger. Now she wants the stranger to read what the boy wrote for her.
As he woke up from siesta, he sensed sound waves falling on his ears. He turned around and noticed that the weather has changed during past few hours. The tiny droplets were striking the window pane as if a painter is stroking yet another masterpiece on glass. He just imagined how beautiful the painting would be if only these droplets carry vibrant colors. The mesmerizing atmosphere compelled him to fall into a virtual sleep. He was now lost into the world of dream & imagination.
In his escapade, he saw a child playing and dancing in the mud without an absolute care of being assailed by cold or viral. It was raining cats & dogs. The child was juvenile and inviting his friend whose mother has yet not allowed the child to go out in the pouring rain.
“Childhood days are the days one can cherish the most,” he thought.
“Perhaps the kid’s mother also wanted to enjoy the first rain and sing but she had to curb her wishes now. As we age, we act so much serious and responsible that the silly things that make us smile are left behind,” his thought process continued.
Children laughing on every stupid incident reminded him the importance of ‘small happiness’ for which people has assigned the term ‘stupidity’.
“Happiness is a rain that can only fall on us when the sky is covered with intense clouds. And as soon as the rain of happiness pours down, visibility in our ambiance increases by setting down of dust. It brings the rainbow of joy and you can see the clear sky,” his mind reflected.
A thundercloud brought him back to reality. He had missed all this during past few years. Apparently, he was seeking his own lost self in the kid. Life without rain of happiness becomes a drought-affected land, you cannot grow anything at such place. An adrenaline rush pushed him to go out and get drenched. He played on the ground. He faced towards sky such that the droplets fall over the maximum surface area of his body. Then he closed the eyes and let his body imbibe happiness showering from the sky.
There were days when I used to cry when I was lost in the crowd streaming away from my parents in the market. The time when i used to fight with my sister for silly reasons.
And now that i have grown up, i have to leave (willingly or unwillingly I don’t know) so that after few year I can see some tears of joy in their hopeful eyes & make them feel proud. I wish i could just have a few more holidays just to sit & laugh for the same reason. You kind of grow up with time as you learn about responsibility. End of vacations; last dat at home. Don’t know when i’ll return. But that’s life, enjoying every moment as it comes in small packets. Feeling a strong urge to sleep now. Even a nap at home refreshens you but a whole night sleep away doesn’t. Anticipating that they will wake me up on time for they would love to see me embracing my dreams in reality.
And suddenly i heard a knock at the door.
“Knock kock…!!! Wake Up beta, its 6 o’ clock.”
Oh wait.., Am i still sleeping or I wrote all this in reality?
Let me open the door to find out.
The huge nebulose of agony hover over his swollen heart. Besides the wafting breeze, the chattering of leaves is the only sound that tears up the eerie silence. The silence between two hearts, beneath which a million thoughts are buried. The moon slides himself somewhere behind clouds leaving darkness to prosper. It’s tough to witness the outburst of a lad’s emotions. Tears were rolling from his eyes as he knelt down. Drenched into the melancholy of his beloved he put the wilted rose over the corpse. Darkness has now completely covered the placid ambiance. Moon pretend to act ignorant by continuously being involved in hide & seek game. The corpse soaked every teardrop draining off his gloomy eyes. It apparently reminded him the way she cared for him. Night creatures have started to brood over atmosphere, making it more intense. But his mind is still choked by shackles of memories past. The pain in his heart grew fonder with each passing arcminute. He retrospected over the past. Regret is the worst thing a person lives with. It eats up the ability to introspect.
Suddenly the clouds started thundering, the gentle breeze transformed into a hailstorm. The pouring rain mixed with his tears apparently diluting the magnitude of salinity in his eyes. Bliss takes over the forlorn face as he unfolds the memories of his mind. The earth swallowed all the tears that the sky cried. His thoughts start roaming around his heart, looking for a place where all those memories are still fresh. There is a place in the human heart which acts as a preservant for all happy and sad times.
His subconscious drifted to the time they first met. The time when happiness dawned over him.
He distinctly remembers that summer night. They were enchanted by the glorifying beauty of the scintillating TAJ. It was a full moon night. There was love and sanctity in their eyes, a betide promise to stand for each other – no matter what. The serene ambiance was probably eavesdropping on them. Everything seemed so perfect when they hold each other’s hand and
vowed to be together.
“We will be together,
No matter what,
When inclement turns weather,
When times are tough,
We will be together,
No matter what.”
Now, after more than a year has rolled by, its the same day. The atmosphere is still placid, but there is a silence of loneliness. The wind wafting through the still water. But tonight, he is all alone. Tears are dripping down his blue eyes. The moon has refused to reflect the rays of the sun.
Darkness has engulfed all his happiness & smile, still, he manages to say,
“The only thing that has not changed yet is – my love for you. Steadfast, it is and it will be more profound with the passage of time. Irrespective of all the hurt inside me. I believe we will be together someday. May somewhere in the other world I’ll still be waiting for you…”
He turns his gloomy face towards sky and whispers,
“You forgot that promise,
Leaving me totally astonish,
Sky is dark & I’m without you,
Fighting from loneliness
To survive through,
In a hope to someday meet you