Passing Time - The illusion

I wonder as I live my quiet and lazy life in the doldrums as preferred by me about why I don't want to be like others who simply don't know where they are going, or what they want actually in life, and still follow life's paths blindly, sometimes enjoying but mostly suffering so much in secret.

The lady in white was sweating profusely as she hung on to the grocery bag she was carrying. It was no doubt heavy as she kept heaving it from one hand to the other. I wondered about her age; eyeing the fine grey hair line drenched in sweat, she seemed in her fifties with sagging eyes covered crudely with over-sized black spectacles. She was no doubt going home from a long day at work and had been obviously walking to the bus stand after some quick grocery shopping. My eyes shifted to another lady standing beside her. She too was anxiously shifting her glance from one overly crowded bus to the other. Suddenly I found it amusing looking at all the people in the bus stand. They all suddenly looked as if in pain; pain from hardships; pain from carrying themselves in life; pain from life’s disdain and monotony. I thought about myself; I had woken up at 12:00 noon, read the newspaper and abruptly planned for a movie. At a slow pace, I had showered, fed my fishes, locked up my apartment, started my bike and had gone to my favorite eatery where I savored the fish fry with some rice. Stomach full, I had parked my bike near the bus stand and taken the bus to the theatre in Aluva. The film - Chandini Chowk to Chinatown was as stupid as I had suspected but with some slick comedy it didn't matter plus/and the near empty theatre meant that I could swing up my legs over the front row seat and enjoy the visuals added up to my Saturday afternoon time-pass. After the movie, I had slowly walked window shopping and enjoying a smoke to the bus-stand where I now stood looking at people with a far-away pain in their eyes

I guess people were not left with a choice. They just followed the path in front of them. They just did what was required of them to do. They went to school, they went to work, and they married, had children, supported and married them off and then quietly died remembering probably the few laughs they had.

But to me, none of it matters at all. I'm among the best theatrical actors in the world. I wear a smile on my face because I know quite well that no one is going to understand. I know that making others understand makes me feel vulnerable. I know that other people don't care for my petty problems. It of course makes me feel too unimportant for words or for action. It forever lingers in me, reminding me of all those times of emotional solitude. So I smile and joke, try to seek some attention with some sassy remarks, comment on the weather, the upcoming movie and probably of the latest techno-shit available in the market. This I call passing time. But the growing concern is if the feelings or the intensity of my love to certain passing-time lullabies will last for ever. As a small child, I was very often left alone in the house. My Dad and Mom were both working couples and I dived into a dreamy world I built around the books I read. I wasn't lonely. I infact loved the fact that my parents will leave me alone in my dream world and not trouble me with the are-you-studying-questions. But those Mandrake's, Superman's and those Phantom stories don't interest me anymore. Will my current craze for movies last for ever? Will I develop out a new indulgence as I age?

Sometimes when time doesn't pass on I feel the more self-indulgent knowing that in truth, there is always some one to talk to. I longingly look at the cell phone and agnize that I can press those magic dial pads to make a human voice speak into my ear, but I know that I need to get used to my life and the way it is supposed to go. I know that I just need to be that ugly teenager (never revealing my actual age) in out-of-date clothing that is much too silly, selfish and obsessive to care for anyone. But I realize that the current dream is short lived and the harsh daylight will seap in through those blinded curtains. I know that one day I’ll open up my eyes to see myself old and an empty house and world where I wouldn’t even have anyone to share my dream with. A strange pain will envelop me and I’ll try to close my eyes and dream again but I know it would be lost with the memories of time and with desperate eyes and a meek voice I’ll start talking to empty walls....