Monday, January 30, 2017

THIS ONE DOESN’T HAVE A TITLE

For a crude mind, which thinks about keeping this blog alive, this one doesn’t have a title.

I wonder why we stopped kissing the papers and dating the pens.

I wonder why we stopped embarking on impromptu picnics and teasing the trees.

For all the reasons not known to you, me and everybody this one doesn’t have a title.

Of the million things left undone, are the unread weekend newspapers. Personally speaking, I consider them a matter of a lost privilege. Or the million things left undone, are the sealed packs of fine, imported coffee, which are yet to be inaugurated, brewed and served.

I must confess I have been collecting movies from all over the available hard disks and backup drives. Some of them are stored in the laptop and some are stored in external hard drives. And I am yet to make time to watch them, one after the other. Do they comprise porn? I don’t think they are significant any more.

As we wrapped up 2016 through a chilling December, I wrote a short story and titled it ‘THE TINY TRAIN TO NOWHERE’. The story met with good response. I don’t repent the pressure techniques I used to extract genuine feedback from my friends and some foes too. And I still feel, there was no pressure on any of them.

I wish I could have set out on a trek alone. A trek to the womb of my inspiration, Matheran. For ages, I haven’t been there. I haven’t heard the neighing of the horses. I haven’t sunk my nose in the stench of the dung they leave behind, mixed in the red sands of a hill station, which never ceases to surprise me. The while might still take some while to materialize and therefore, this doesn’t have a title.

January 30 marks the completion of a month into the New Year.  January 30 also marks a few birthdays; my car, my bran new bicycle and some friends too. Did I forget to mention, it is someone else’s birthday too! Only if the world could have cared or as if I care!

The trip was just an experience. Just a year back, it was a trip. The experience could have lingered. But my greed overturned it into a culture of constant hatred and a discontinued story. 

Before I could alight, the train had set in motion. The crowd was thick with envy against my ownership of the window seat. I could have spared it for the needy. But greed overtook my conscience. This one therefore doesn’t have a title.

Project 365+1 never took off. Project Escapation is not yet shelved. And yet that feeling of restlessness never leaves my side. That means, the stubbornness to put my word forward is still alive.

The darkness was absolutely misleading. The handshake was great. I paid in cash to the entertainer and rolled out swaying to my right and left. The best that I could do at that point was to make sure, THIS ONE DOESN’T HAVE A TITLE.

-Virtuous Vociferous