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The Loner's Side

By , Indore, India
The place was perfect. I’ve been to this place before, but somehow, it looked different from what it is usually. It was looking more like a landscape painting; the sun fading, giving a lovely peach hue to the sky, the same mellow tinge reflected on the lake, mirroring but somehow intensifying the depth, the distant birds, the silent, melancholic greenery, and the obscure and empty road. It contrasted with my moods today, but somehow, there was a pain, a tragedy, a strange kind of a vacuum in this place, like a gloomy poet’s imagination; somehow I felt a sense of belongingness here. Like nature knew I would be here on a particular aggrieved day, so the weather, the wildness and the wistfulness harmonize with my mind in a peculiar way; such that I might take my mind off from the original contemplations and just silently admire and imagine myself being photographed or painted secretly into a masterpiece. Thankfully, very thankfully, I had my guitar with me that time. All the disappearing soulfulness, passion and the initial infatuation was flying back into my mind. I took it out, strummed randomly for a while, took a deep breath and closed my eyes. And then I started just like that; random prelude, random arpeggios, random rhythmic patterns but I just let my soul conquer me. I had it now; it was not like that in the past, and there was no surety of revisit in future. I had the music, the one I was dreaming and yearning of persistently. It was literally now or never.
I opened my eyes after what it seemed like an eternity. To say that I felt rejuvenated or even reawakened would be an understatement. It felt that I just grew 10 years older. Like I figured out what was going wrong in my life, how to overcome, and kick start, things like that. OK. Now I am accepting everything that was going in my mind. I ruined my life. Nobody’s fault but mine. I ran away from a lot of things, like responsibilities, relationships, remembrances etc. I had an inborn tendency to escape, or simply turn my back when things turned sour. I had destroyed a lot what I had comfortably in hand, knowingly and unknowingly. But on the other hand, there was no other way I could have raised myself! There are many factors which determine the person we would be as we grow up, all completely different from each other. The first one is what the parents infuse into our brains; there are some things that we willingly accept, and there are some things that we obey, but our inner conscience longs to contravene. The latter one comes into action when we grow out of our shoes, enough to challenge that order, or thought for that matter. The second one is how we perceive the world, and shape ourselves to face any incoming, warped obstacles. And when the second types of teachings dominate the first kind, certain obstinacy resides almost permanently inside us. Very obviously, it is highly unlikely that our innate stubbornness gets acknowledged with smiles and nods. So, when the ugly truth reaches us, a loner like me gets stranded in a deserted universe. Who on earth will want to accept that every thought he possessed, every firm brick he used to create the multidimensional wall which will comprise of his future, his past and his present was not built the way it is supposed to be! I happen to be such a person stuck in crossroads of thoughts and deliberations. I mean, this is explaining in the best way I can; I know what is wrong with me, I know how it can be corrected, but it cannot be accomplished because of my rigid, obstinate mind. It’s like knowing that fire would cause burns, but I’d rather prefer burns than to be told what to do.
Does this give you an idea of why I’m a loner? No, I’m not that much of a person to throw everything away crossing my path. I admit I throw and ignore a lot of things, but real truth is stranger than fiction itself; I’m attracted to sad things. Any normal person would take this to be an account of a masochistic schizophrenic. But I’m not! I neither love to hurt myself, nor do I have a separate alter ego dominating my actions. It’s just that I’m seeing an extreme of everything, and sorrowful things help me to see myself in a dim light I never imagined myself to be in. And that in turn is helping me to expand the horizons of my vision, and making my dreams more realistic. I am past those phases where I just imagined; a darker me, a meaner me, a more cynical me. Now I know. And this is life after all. If you don’t accept what is meant for you, it makes you fall on your knees, and you have to take it. And there’s one thing I can smile about, at this point of time; I can take my life wherever I want to. From now on, I get to control it, because only can handle it and steer it in the right direction. Nobody has seen the bad phases of my life more than me.
The sky was a dark violet one now. The darkness further intensified the supremacy of the lake, obscure and unfathomable. The winds were carrying certain coldness, sending shivers down my spine. The sun had long faded to oblivion. Amongst the twinkling stars stood out silver, shining crescent shaped moon. The path which was once rough and lonely was now further embedded by darkness. So was the world. It is better to see darkness rather than imagining its extent and getting intimidated by it. I had seen it all. That was the best thing about being alone, and in the last. You know that you can only move forward, and things could only get better. Time to go home.





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