Life was a funny thing. One moment, he could soar above the skies and yet the next, even crawling would be difficult.
He sat there on the marble floor, stoned and barely able to move. It was cold but he felt like a furnace - Remote in hand, staring blankly at the Television screen. The movie showed a guy being subjected to electrical shock treatment. Patrick McMurphy was the name. Or was it Randle...? He wasnt too sure. But he kinda liked the guy. He felt a certain closeness with Mr McMurphy, separated from him only by the vitreous glass. Suddenly he felt like crossing over to the other side of the glass screen. But he was too weak to move. So he just sat there and stared on...
Once in a while he would feel the urge to press- a button or two, just to make sure his muscles were in control. Just to make sure he was still alive. Suddenly he thought he felt a hand on his shoulder. A hand that felt oddly familiar. An involuntary spasm ran down his spine. He turned his head. As if he was turning a road roller. NO. It wasnt her her. It was cold turkey !!
The TV played on :-
Woh shaam kuch ajeeb thi, yeh shaam bhi ajeeb hai
Woh kal bhi paas paas thi, Woh aaj bhi kareeb hai...
The music was cathartic. Not that there was much life left in him to catharify. His head seemed like it would burst into a million pieces. But somehow he could manage to feel good. Even smile, although even smiling seemed too much of an effort. That lady on the boat seemed to remind him of someone....well nevermind.....
But he did mind. It was a couple of months since he last saw her...or was it a year...NO...wait, it must be close to two. In the end he wasnt too sure. He recalled how edgy he would be everytime she was around. Today when she wasnt there anymore, he felt a strange calm, the likes of which he had never felt before. He never did understand why she left him in spite of her love. Was the draw of the corporeal so powerful ? It must be. And yet he knew she had chosen the world over him in full knowledge of her folly. Why must we fail before we realise the value of success ? Why must we Hurt in order to Love ? Why must we tire ourselves to realise the value of Life ? How he wished she had called out to him. Just once. But she had chosen not to. He knew she never would have.
His whole body seemed to be behaving robotically. It was as if the parts belonged to someone else. They wouldnt obey him anymore. It was as if his soul was completely disjoint. He felt like he was inside someone else's skin trying to feel and take control of things. Thats what year of substance abuse could do. You start with the intention of isolating yourself and at the end of it, isolated is what you are. Terribly isolated. But he didnt seemed to mind. This feeling of numbness was far better than those confounding and everchanging feelings that changed a million colors like a chameleon.
Main jaanta hoon mera naam gunguna rahi hai woh
Main jaanta hoon mera naam gunguna rahi hai woh
Yehi khayal hain mujhe ke saath aa rahi hai woh...
No she wasnt coming with him. Not anymore. She wasnt even around. She would never be. He had lost her. And his whole world with her. But it wasnt so bad. He could hardly feel or think coherently. But it wasnt so bad at all. He could still move, even if slowly. He could still walk, even if it was a limp. He could still think even if his mind was in tatters. If life was a celabration, it didnt take champagne and caviar to do it. Bread crumbs would do just fine. He was happy. Happy that he could do quite a few things. Changing the TV channel for instance.
Nevermind if he couldnt do a million others !!
