Saturday, 23 April 2011

Momentary purposelessness

I picked up the above phrase from one of the articles on a news site. Shamelessly I thought it quite fitting for my own long pending post here. Its alarming that the last piece of writing I left here was in January. I half abandoned the world of blog, forgetting how important it was to me in the past few years that I found and nourished my love for writing ( not that I m a scholarly one for that matter). I have been locked up in a self made bubble of many hurdles, now that I think of, created out of my own imagination. There is still a vague but strong feeling of being lost in a Grand Canyon of my clustered thoughts. Time and again I have reminded myself of the need to break the illusionary bubble for it is doing me no good. I cannot put the feeling to words, either it was defeat  or simply a lack of purpose that glued me to my suicidal comfort zone. I preferred it there, doing nothing and merely being a spectator of my surroundings, close and far off. It feels good, sitting in your own space with no one bothering you  even if its about your own bed creaking indicating of a 'bed accident' in the near future. Its intoxicating once you give yourself in to the aimlessness of life.

Today is a long summer afternoon, trees under the new summer sun are giving off long shades, hot breeze occasionally blowing the curtains away from the window.One such slow afternoon of many winds ago, I remember sitting in my cocoon of self destruction, gazing into the blank canvas hanging in mid air. My limbs tired of an exhausting peregrinate, eyes tight and watery and jaws locked from holding my lips together against the dusty desert wind. I gave in, closed my eyes and drifted into reverie's labyrinth. It was a momentary purposelessness that felt inviting, a favourite pastime anyway. Day dreaming, brain trying to gathering thoughts from as far as north and south pole, oil thirsty long strands of hair swaying to the fan's cool air about my face. Nothing felt wrong about the slowly creeping in of the intoxication of the momentary purposelessness that stretched into hours, day, weeks and months right before my eyes.

Capable of more than being a breathing organism, I remained a silent spectator of the revolutionary winds that invaded the world, the price hikes, natural disasters, socio economic maze, lives and deaths. I chose to remain mum on issues that mattered to me directly or indirectly. For it felt like a trivial phase about to pass into oblivion, a train waiting to depart at any second. The train's engine became the background sound to my existence. I was to get on the train anytime, just didnt know when...

The delirium is soon to follow or maybe it is what I m talking out of...


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