Letter
“Hello!”
“Hello!”
“Hello, I will call you back.”
“Yes, I am finding it!”
“I don’t know!”
“Is this a script?”
I cut down the call as I narrated the dialogue. My both hands went up, slowly, first touching my cheeks then my head and hair, in distress. My one hand went on to the plug, closing the tube light, the other one engaged with a phone. I don’t know which hand was engaged with what, whether it was the right one with phone or left, vice-versa. I was about to leave the pink broken plastered room with a white curly cement roofing sheet on the top, closing the brown gate. However, I made a comeback from my lost consciousness, switching on the light. I began searching in a bundle of old newspapers, books, and spreadsheets. I looked around and saw a room filled with a bucket, one big trunk, small mud pots, broken ply bed folding, diyas or lamps made from oil or ghee, and a window opening to a courtyard. As I searched the newspapers and went through old books, I sat down on the floor, arranging everything, scattering everything in one sequence, and began my search. I know it’s evening, a winter night, probably 6:00 P.M., and I am dreaming of this world, sitting close to my sister, and Mom calling for dinner.
When my mom called me for dinner, it was exactly one of those events from the yearbook when I was into something. It’s already 10:30 P.M., and she called me twice. I put down my pen, switched off the lights, arranged everything in place, and went to have my night food. Similar stories revolve around and make a comeback in every person’s life, but an interesting part remains in individualism. That’s how we make progress with each page and each chapter.
The next morning, I went for a walk and jogged a little. I am running on a road, a river-like lake on the right side and a dumpster on the left. As I move forward, I see a yellow wall on the left side while trees and cemented benches are on the right. I took a corner of the divergent road close to the temple and was shaded with one broken cement bench, one with back support, and the other without back support. I did some jumping jacks, bent down, and P.T. routine jump. After doing all this, I sat down on the brick cement bench with back support facing the lakeside. I waited for a moment and lost in foggy weather on the other side, I saw the sun slowly turning to show and making its yellowish light-hearted glow in the lake. I see morning passersby, middle-aged to young age people for their usual morning walk, jogging, and running.
I came back home early around 6:30, it took 10 minutes to reach my house from the lakeside road. Furthermore, I took my lazy snap and then went to take a bath around 7:40 a.m., from the lazy snap to a quick recap of my daily routine. Next moment I was doing the usual search work that I have been doing for the last 3 days. This time I was searching my steel bookshelf filled with old Ncert books and college workbooks. I sat nicely on the cemented floor and began searching in the peeping winter sunlight coming from the open door in the room. I didn’t find him but my old poetries from the 5th class, the number of times I practiced math on sheets, notes made of class 12th in a diary, sketchy drawings, not so good, art books, and some prizes. Until I did my searching, mom came, and I had to keep everything in place.
The camera rolls down, as I walk in the open, running, trying to jog, rubbing my both hands, on a cold winter night, at 4 a.m., thinking it would be much better to walk covered, without coming in the notice of people. After two, or three shots of covering my morning shoot in my phone camera, I stayed in a calm space facing myself in the direction of the sunlight, closing my eyes, and inhaling the fresh air. I felt that glowish warmth on my face as they have always said in their poetry. Soon everything started becoming clear, like a vision. I took one shot near the bench side, sitting on the bench, thinking, and expressing through my face, smiling. Now, slowly this is becoming part of life, capturing or creating moments, to look back at something grateful that happened, or I did something productive. Like a walk or a cakewalk, my morning routine ended, and it was time to return home.
One thing I realized was that I had to make this awesome, something worth remembering and caring for. On the next morning of 31st December 2020, I had to visit my village for the new eve. I remember being part of something, but never really enjoyed it. I thought of several things from good, bad, to worst and then re-thinking of positives. Furthermore, I like to play around alone, and half of my life is spent in hiding. Sometimes I think my memories were a little scratchy and crappy, while other times I believe it was too bothersome, forced, and emotionless. Like whatever, we think of it as part of something new and happening. Similar to the year 2021, I spent my time from over-thinking to self-thinking to covering myself to meditating to deleting Instagram accounts to making a comeback, preferably I did everything for existence.
I came back on 2nd January 2021 and began my searches again. Until now, I was a complete mess, and that part stuck with me forever. I was searching every corner and realized it wasn’t there, to be honest. I went through the thought process of continuous scrolling, and then it became unnoticed by everyone on the other side. It could be true, or it could not be true like they said or have said. And that’s how everything went on, like a piece of paper floating in the air or scattered around.
I forgot to add something, and then I had to rewrite everything. I was frustrated at the moment and then felt back to trying everything new all over again. It’s difficult to start everything all over again, but then you have to put emotions in every word and every sentence, and that’s how my talks went on in the room filled with papers and violet paint on the wall and ceilings. For a moment, I took a break from my writing to look outside the window, but that too was walled from the neighbor’s house. Too fast to be true and too soon to be gone like a blink of a second. I heard fights that day, the same old tradition of fights that have been written in the ancient literature between two neighbors. Where is the scene, there is the scene, “Where one blames another and other blames someone another,” like so on.
In between lonely thoughts of romantic scenes, and moments in my dreams, I began to write again and started penning down my thoughts. That day was one of the same kind, and this day is too. I remember re-starting writing everything a few hours ago, and then I fell asleep. When I woke up, it was 19:59, and my mind went on to other thoughts of memories. I now started recalling the part and pieces of everything that went on a year ago on the lakeside.
I remember explaining the sexual urge is not just about orgasm, but you invest your energy and entire body parts into it. You feel every touch and warmth of skin. Sometimes you become too attached to it, and it’s the essence of growth that you start finding comfort in every hug and every part of the touched body. Sometimes you feel the energy of repelling or something getting away from being touched on the back shoulder of your body. Like one hand is reaching there to comfort you, but before fingers are being touched by your skin, it skips away or takes away from that part. After sometimes that energy turns into toxicity, you start hating each other, fighting with each other, going away, anger, and frustrations. But now you are an adult, you know about everything, you sit in silence, you come down on the bed sitting with each other, you talk about pleasures, and you laugh together with every touch you have ever dreamt of by experiencing it. And that’s how you become mature, and you grow in finding that comfort that you have always feared that might break us or pull us apart from each other. On such a note, you write and explain everything.
When I began writing those first glimpses of the script, I thought of recording it and then making it into a short film. I also imagined and traveled to a roadside lake to check the views and spots to give my story a shape and visual impression of what I have to say to the audience. I insisted some people record my video, but they didn’t want to. Furthermore, I also requested my sister to film the video and thought of a cousin brother accompanying me to the said destination to shoot my video, but that too didn’t work. While doing so, I started getting the vibes and Déjà vu of something similar taking place at every other spot and corner years ago. When I traveled there, I didn’t know that thing would be there with me forever stuck in and finding ways to escape from the said path. Sometimes things work out the way we want, but sometimes it doesn’t, and there lies a mistake or memories.
When I dream of a world filled with desires or sexual desires, I didn’t want that to happen, or they might not take place the way we want them to be so. Hence, we move on to another part, character, scene, and story. In between all those dreams, we keep on finding love, aspiring fondness, for being together and close with each other. Like in a second, everything fades away, and you wake up. I woke up to search for that particular piece of art and make it perfect. Most importantly, to feel and relive it again in memories of a lifetime. Similar are the instances of water that kept flowing to give life to its every corner, part, or specifically periphery. We find life in romance and romanticism. One that begins with a word and ends with a sentence.
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Somewhere every incident from 2020 to 2021 is interconnected and happens twice. Every story that took place reminded me of the year back story from 2020. The same year when I began my journey of self-realization and self-reconsideration about the parts where I have put blank space or given closure. It’s the 31st of December 2021 tomorrow, and again I am revisiting my village in the old traditional way. Now, when you know that there’s a rotation of an event like infinity or a circle, you are more clear about everything. Where you started and where you are going back, and where you are ending it, speaks back to you like real and not imagination or dreams.
18th October 2020
In between busy schedules, streets, and people, I finally went for a walk. I was thinking of starting the journey of fitness and After being told by everyone. I went there and that too with something else in mind. Furthermore, I remember waking up at 4 a.m. in October when a white flower fell from its origin, and that’s how you know, it’s October. Furthermore, I went to my usual spot and sat on the cement bench with back support. And also one facing the lakeside, obviously that’s the reason why people go there, to be seated and enjoying the evening, night, and morning visuals of the city. Sometimes even clicking pictures or making videos. I went there when no one was around. However, a few young sprinters were running or practicing for the race. I waited and sat for hours, but no one came. Furthermore, I stood, looked around, and waited for a few more minutes, until now it was morning, and the sun was peeping up in the sky. After staying and doing so, I came back to my house.
25th October 2020
After a week, I went back, but I was updated with everything on my phone. There was still no sign of anyone there. For a moment, I got a ray of hope, but that too vanished in a few seconds.
Sooner or later, I had to start writing, and then I began to write. All my emotions and feelings in the moment of that hour of speculations and temptations. But my phone started hanging, and everything began to fade away. I was in a state of helplessness, but I calmed myself.
I return to my place, sleeping on the bed, taking a quick short nap, and then going for a bath.
29th October 2020
Still there..
November 2020
I thought that the 4th of November would be the same, but I met stray dogs barking at night on the street. I was scared a little, but then they barked for a while, and after looking and knowing, they remained at their place. Furthermore, I was switching on and off my hands from the hoodie that I was wearing that night of 4.
On the 12th of November, I saw an unsent message, and I thought it was from an unknown number, but that was a different number.
On the 18th, 19th, 20th, and 23rd of November, I was busy with my projects and assignments that were piled up, and I had to make it before the deadline. I was struggling with thoughts and yet trying to make it perfect and finish it on time.
5th December 2020
On a foggy winter night, smelling the air, rubbing my hands, covering myself in a hoodie, wearing track pants, and sports shoes, I passed through the lonely streets of my town.
It was the early morning hour. I was seated in my usual place when my hand fell on a piece of paper, and I took it up, looked for a while, stopped, and stared at the handwriting. I was processing everything and every instance of time. While I was there to pretend that things weren’t messy and were worth remembering, I folded the one page of the paper, written on both sides.
Dear Keith,
I am doing fine, like a jumping jack, and hoping you are the same as always. I know everything you have ever told and explained to me, but do you think it is possible or true…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………
Yours,
Xoxo
