Wednesday, May 13, 2009

Thoughts of a wanderer 3

I stepped on the road and stopped near the slum area.

It was a drama being played by some local people. Two persons, one dressed as a god and other as a lady in distress, perhaps suffering from leprosy wanting some food in a horrible manner. The laughter of the half-mad lady keeps hovering in the crowd. The colors from their faces dazzles in the spotlights. Red, blue, yellow, green slip into their faces, making them look celestial, as the lady character keeps reminding me the dark sides of the world, the other character keeps fading away, and I start walking towards the lake.


I return to the usual question: why had she said nothing to me. What could be the reason of her behavior...as I enter the lake place.

I check the time. It is 7.56 PM. No train is going to come now. So I continue walking.

It rained last night. Also the whole of today. This place becomes fairly wet whenever it rains. I see trees that fell down the other side, perhaps the consequences of the rainstorm last night.


I get the smell of a costly scent from a girl’s body who just passed me on the way. An attracting one. I look back, and find her looking at me. I continue walking.

I see six couples kissing lip to lip in the dark. Embraced. I see the water of the lake. I see the South City far across the lake, the Merlin's’, and the Golf Green tower.

I am all set to cross the neon once again tonight.

And that’s what I do. The neon becomes far behind me, and my shadow becomes longer in front of me. I step into the dark.

“Will you sit?”

No answer.

“What? Will you sit?” a lady calls me standing just in front of me.

Once again I remain silent, dare to look into her eyes, walking away from the woman.

She is above forty, a bag in her shoulder, wearing a sari and calling in from the dark. She is elder than the previous one that called me the previous evening.

I astonish.

Back to back evening I get these proposals of sitting with ‘them’. What do they think? Do I look like one of them?

The downpour affected the lake place a lot. The signs of path are lost into the bushes and pieces of wood fell from the trees. The mud created problems in walking, as I keep thinking of the last words of the prophet.

I am not that fearless to sit with them, yet. Perhaps someday, I will come back, and say yes.
The bushes on the both sides of the path and the lake remain mystified to me. In the dark, with the wind, they remain as one of the darkest characters in the world, being the evidence of a darker world.

I cross the cinema hall and once again come into the crowd. I continue to walk until it’s her home.

The meeting is on, in front of her house. I look at them, they do not care me. I look above, to the curtains, which continue to swing in the cool breeze. The neon from the room of her came through the windows and fell in the balcony. I lower my eyes, and continue walking.

A song comes drifting into the air...I stop for a few moments, listen to it, and once again I am on my way. The paths take turns and I keep walking. Southern Avenue falls behind.


I think of the proposals once again. It’s a matter of fact that I am 21 and I desperately need a girl to fulfill my thirst, discharge my man-ness onto her. I remember the thirst of ‘The Sensualist’, which had a terrible end. But what a catastrophe it has been on the fate of mine. Just three years ago I was in love with a girl of seventeen. She dejected me, and now a lady of forty calling from the dark. What a sad end it’s becoming of the whole story. I don't know, perhaps it is the beginning of a greater thing. I don’t want to be another sensualist, that’s for sure.


I walk on the busy road and come under the overbridge. The evening train leaves the station now. It comes like a giant, panting in from far, passes the overbridge with heavy, metallic sound.

As I walk back home, I find the drama still on. I watch it once again for some time, and somewhat like it.


Life plays different dramas with us. We have to just sit back and watch. There is no chance of changing the script, whatsoever.

What can we do, else?

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