Since childhood, she had been always fascinated with tunnels.But unlike others, the fascination did not wear off with childhood. As a child, the darkness scared and excited her in strange way. Acting like day had turned into night in a wink and back to day just as quickly became one of the things she looked forward to in any travel.As she grew up,her fear turned into admiration and wonder, as to how man had managed to carve out this void into mammoth of a mountain. Even when that mystery was solved,the tunnels remained enigmatic to her.The amber coloured lights flooding the tunnels made her feel magical They were like charming small suns minus the harsh heat.They made her smile and filled her with unrealistic optimism, as if this were the moment when all the darkness in her life was to be lit up with beaming golden hope.When the lights bounced on her whitish skin,she felt beautiful,like the light was washing away all the ugliness in her, mending all the blemishes..leaving just purity. She did not know what it was about them,they were just ordinary lights after all. But it wasn’t about the fixtures, or the colour of the light,but the idea of something bright piercing the monstrous darkness,making everything in the journey visible,clear and uncomplicated…it was this idea of darkness being slain to reveal beauty that was always the core of her fascination.It inspired her in to believing that we can overcome every difficulty,every frightening thing can be fought. It was always about hope, golden hope.
How young were you when you first heard the line : ‘A friend in need is a friend indeed’.Throughout our childhood,we have been taught in school,at home to choose friends wisely,to read a person.And during that discourse we more than often were bombarded with the ‘in need indeed’ saying. Did we really understand at that time what it meant?What did we take from it?
I definitely learnt something from it,to help your friends and be with them no matter what the situation.Was it because of this that it got imbibed or that I met such great friends over the years that it came naturally I do not know.But over the years friends became most important part of my life.But only recently did I realise that this line has a different lesson altogether.It does not (only) guide you how to be a good friend,but guides you how to identify your true friends.
Because there comes a time in your life,when all you need is a true friend by your side,to tell you that everything will be ok..and you find yourself starving for friendship.This is the time when you realise that a friend in need is a friend indeed.And like a reinforcement to what you already knew,comes the truth…that your friends sitting across the seven seas are closer to you than the ones that you rub your shoulders with.It’s amazing that with their own set of problems, issues and umpteen amount of work,they still think of you,sense your needs and care enough to make you feel less lonely.
So how much do the others matter really? The ones that don’t care about anything but getting together, having a good time.Or when they are in need.Are they not good friends?May be they are,just not close enough.May be not friends in the real,deeper sense.May be they are better friends to someone else.All you can do is hope, that they indeed are,and treasure your own close ones!
She looked at herself in the mirror…she tried to see what was left of her.
After days of not feeling anything,of starving beyond consciousness,of abusive outbursts and carelessness,she realized something was wrong.I was never like this.Now she looked at her reflection.She had lost all of the little weight she had managed to put on in the last year.The only little fat remaining was on her stomach,and it still bothered her.He waist had become waif thin and her wrists were negligible.Her black vest lay loosely on her drooping shoulders and her frayed grey shorts were slipping down her diminishing waistline.She moved closer to the mirror to see her side profile.She moved even closer and saw droopy eyes drowning in a pool of dark circles staring back at her. Suddenly she realized she was a mess.But the next moment she thought that she knew that already,didn’t I?
She played with her hair that fell lightly on her forehead.She crudely twisted them around her finger,like the thoughts that were twitching in her mind.She did not realize she spent 43 minutes doing that until she saw the wall clock in the mirror and turned around to check if the mirror wasn’t lying.As she was turning around to check the time,she heard a soft knock on the door.Her left eyebrow raised in irritation almost as a reflex.He knocks now.He is afraid of me.Her mind was beaming at the thought, but it did not cross the thick layers of skin.And indeed the person on the other side of the door was afraid of the effect his concern might have on her.She cautiously moved across her room and took her copy of her favourite Milan Kundera’s novel and opened it to page 42,exactly the page that she was reading 3 weeks ago.
Her dad walked in to the room after waiting for another 30 seconds.Her dad was her only family left and probably the only person in the whole wide world that loved her.She looked up only for their eyes to meet for a second and then went back to pretending to read.She was afraid even a second more of eye contact would start a conversation.Even she had not heard her voice in three weeks and wanted the mute phase to continue.She was afraid to hear how it may sound after all these days of hauntingly soulful silence.He walked up to her,kissed her just above the forehead and left wordlessly,leaving the door ajar on purpose.She immediately got up and closed the door and returned in front of the mirror.In an instant all the anger and frustration in her melted in to tears and started flowing down like a constant stream.This was the first sign of her normality in a long time.But she did not want to be normal.She buried herself into her bed and fought back her tears.She did not intend to lose all the anger in her.She did not intend to relieve herself with the tears and go back to being herself.No,that couldn’t be it.She knew she couldn’t bear another hurt and she did not want to make herself vulnerable to it,again.She needed strength…to hold back all the emotions and feel nothing.The mirror made her vulnerable.That day,she decided to engage into an eternal war with her reflection…her conscience.That day,she became a rebel.
Yesterday I saw something that totally amazed me.I saw a man laugh… a man who I have known to be an eternally angry and serious person.I saw him watching television and laugh like an innocent toddler over something that frankly wasn’t even funny.I thought to myself : has he gonecrazy?
In the next instant I realised how inappropriate the thought was,and how casually the C - word is used these days, by everyone.Going crazy is actually far more big a deal than it sounds to us.It is insanity.Something that is considered to be irreversible. So really,no one around you is crazy(positively). But then, why is the word used so often? Because we all act like crazy people sometimes.Every now and then, or rarely… but surely, we all have our moments of craziness. We get tired of being the person that we want the world to think we are.Sometimes we want to surprise ourself. Sometimes it becomes a thing that just needs to be done. It is better to have some of these slips, than to bottle up the pressure that would eventually drive you crazy.
So let go all of your tensions for sometime.Surprise yourself.Sing in the office,dance in the rain,shout in a tunnel,sit silently in a corner,crack jokes on your boss(at your own expense),buy balloons for no reason,race to the mountain top,wear fancy clothes…do something out of the routine,that you always wanted to do.Let people stare,you can stare at them when it’s their turn.Be crazy in a moment than for a lifetime!