Spilling life over a cup of coffee...

Saturday, March 6, 2010

I belong here



I zipped my bag and that moment the message popped out on the computer screen-”Transaction complete. Delivery at the doorstep within 2 hours”. I shut the screen and pulled the power plug out. I locked my wardrobe and threw the keys on the table carelessly. My eyes were stuck at the wall clock following every second very patiently.
            I went there quite long back .I used to go every day. It had always been a part of my day where I was with myself. I even remember the last day too. I took an extra hour for myself that day and assimilated all my connections and moments over there. I did not want to take them with me. I wanted them to be there. I wanted it to be there when I come next.
My hostel days began and I was processed to have a schedule for everything. I woke up at the same time every day. My breakfast, lunch and dinner were laid on the table exactly at the same time every day. My classes were governed by automatic bells which rang precisely at the knock of the scheduled second and the lights went out at the stroke of 10 every night. I obeyed it religiously.
In between I did come back home but doing things at schedule was hardwired in me now. I used to get up early and stared out of the window. Everyone else was deep asleep. At eight I used to be at the table for breakfast, just me and no one else. Dad and Mom were busy preparing for the day at office and at 21 hrs I was back to bed. I had no clue when my parents were back home. But every morning I saw them getting ready for office. Yes I used to get a call in between from Mom and Dad saying that they love me and care for me. So I had nothing to complain about.  Every time I came home the same routine of my followed. Just the background was different; initially Dad and Mom were together, then just Mom, they got divorced and then I alone, Mom left for Netherlands for good. And Dad seems to be a big man now and had houses at many places over the globe.
            The worst thing about my life was that nobody questioned me. My friends said that it was the best thing that can happen to a child–just do whatever u like and nobody bothers you.
They were all wrong. When I went to my friend’s place to stay I felt the difference.
You were not supposed to leave your place without asking for an excuse; at my place never I remember we all sat together for any meal.
You were not supposed to waste food; I ate how much I liked and never bothered to know what was done with the rest of the food.
The best part was they prayed together before going to bed. I saw them when they prayed. I had no clue what they were praying for.
They were all so much connected. They did bother about each other and I call it “concern”.
I was still following the second hand of the wall clock and the door bell rang aloud.
“Sir your order”…a dark tall man with a smiling face which was mostly because he was paid for doing so, handed me the keys of my ranger bike.
I put my old cap, though old but always had the sense of possessing it. I paddled my bike through the rocky terrain, up the steep slope. The way still looks so familiar to me. I knew the bend that was going to come. I braked. I looked at the rock where on the last day I scratched the words “I Will Come Back”, it is as clear as if I wrote it yesterday.
I put my bike down and sat at the edge of the cliff. The drowning sun looks so red. My memory and all my connections are all live here, breathing with me the same air. They are sitting with me by my side, all silent; we have nothing to say to each other.
I have no idea what kind of relationship I share with this place. I just know I am back home.
I spent the rest of the evening sitting there looking at drowning sun. The clouds coloured themselves red which they borrowed from the sun. And as the sun climbed down the horizon, the clouds gave back the colour, with a promise that they would get it the next day.
I reached home. Took my bag and headed for the airport. The flight took off at the scheduled time. I flew over the cliff. I could make out the rock waving me good bye.
Though I tried hard to read what I wrote on the rock today but it was impossible to read.
“I BELONG HERE”…was what I wrote and “I Will Come Back” still holds good.

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