He was always waiting for the moment when everything would
fall into place. When all the sadness and mundaneness of his life would emerge
as part of the grand plan leading to that perfect moment. The angels would
sing, and the wind would gush congratulations. No matter if anyone else on
earth knew it or not, the universe would know.
He was a regular guy with a regular life. His work was
allright, not something that he would trade his late evenings and weekends for,
but in any case, there was nothing else being traded. There were always chores
and responsibilities and duties and other tasks with similar meanings, and they
helped melt the hours into weeks.
The world of letters is treated with suspicion and distrust
by the illiterate, and with reason too. Their minds are less tainted with the
notions of propriety and culture, and it is like a permanent vaccine against
the illnesses caused by too many ideas. Unfortunately destiny had not granted
him such priviledge and thus he often did sucumb to the malaises of those
printed letters. Contrary ideas, spouting everywhere to influence and his poor
little head couldn’t run far to escape till it was caught.
The magic of words and sentences printed in on an innocuous
blank sheet is their ability to morph around everyday aspects of co-existence. Especially, when the
interactions were really quite superflous and professional. Our minds are
really masters of the jigsaw puzzle, fitting tiny pieces to create many
different pictures than what the cover may dictate. And so it was with this
forlorn lad, with none but the sanction of those letters to comprehend the
dissolute world around.
Life was well and the jigsaw puzzles did indeed fit into a
picture; nevermind the jagged edges. Life was as the norms dictated, as the
government wanted its citizens to be, as his organisation wanted its employees
to be, as the TV ads wanted everyone to be. All norms were followed and
balanced and repeated till they became his life and his story. He believed it
to be like any other story he read, just the same mix of reality and
imagination.
Till one day, he fell in love. To be fair, it was actually a
day that he remembered his love, and did not let the thoughts express a surreal
image but instead felt himself reminiscing those memories. It was a strange
feeling. His heart raced faster than usual and his textbook reactions were
muddled up. It was so different than all the stories he had read, all the
messages ingrained. His instinct was to distrust this feeling, and he trusted
his instincts and wanted to push it all away. But, this was the moment that he
had been waiting for ! The universe did beckon. His heart finally felt light,
and he realised that there was such a heavy burden which felt lifted away,
which he had completely overlooked for so many days. The scary part was that it
was not in the script. He did not know the next lines, he had not encountered
words describing the path ahead. And our regular guy was scared, goosebumps lined
his body as his drew his breath sharply in.
He suddenly realised that these crossroads had been beckoned
by his own memories. A voice inside his head dictated, this is but your
creation and what you create once, can be repeated at your will. At the moment,
you may be slightly unprepared, but fear not, there is plenty of support back
where you came from. Close this chapter from your head and you can return at a
suitable time, suitably prepared to seize the moment. Letters are indeed so
malicious and hazardous under their innocent bystander looks. The iron was
struck when it was hot. He succumbed and distracted his thoughts away, like a
skillful magician conjures the rabbit away.
Now, at this very moment, he is dreaming of that moment when
it will all come together, when the jigsaw will rearrange without touching it,
and when he will be who he doesn’t really understand but misses deeply,
himself.
