Run with me in my perpetual haste. Meander with me in my devious course. Wander with me in my desperate search. Slalom with me through my discordant vacillation. Wade with me through my hopeless misery. Sink with me in my unrequited love. Spin with me in my eddying emotion. Cruise with me through my youthful fantasy. Flow with me in my surging spontaneity. Swim with me in my divine euphony. Float with me in my phantasmal heaven. Whirl with me in my fragile bubble. Fly with me as I escape reality

Saturday, June 30, 2007

Playing spectator

It was early evening and vehicles were beginning to trickle in towards the traffic signal. Rush hour traffic was building up, an occasional honk permeated through the swank glass that separated me from the road. I sat in a small cafe with two friends, engaged in an interesting discussion, the kind young people with big dreams indulge in - discussions about people who relentlessly pursue their dreams, about hot jobs and shortcuts to fame, conversations that carefully skirted the periphery of each other's personal life.

"...did you read about this guy who..."

I watched the lucky few who sped past the traffic light as it turned from orange to red and the timer above it began yet another countdown. I could almost feel their tiny thrill at an imagined victory over time. Over a decade of driving in the city has not abated the unfailing excitement I feel every time this happens. The way we let clocks, timers, alarms, phones and answering machines dictate our lives saddens me briefly at such moments of realization. But I've learned not to let the feeling last too long.

My friends had moved on to girls, "...Oh watch out for her. She's gonna be one of the hot ones for sure..." I flashed a knowing smile at this, a grin almost, "Is she the girl you met today?", I asked, though I knew the answer already.

My gaze wandered back to the road, now burgeoning with cars locked fender to fender and shiny motorcycles maneuvering to squeeze themselves in between. There was an urgency in the air. It was the cumulative urgency of men and women hurrying to their waiting sweethearts, of mothers worrying about their hungry children at home, of the occasional loner craving for respite from the mad rush, of those hoping fervently to make it on time for their favorite soaps.

I snapped into the present and smoothly veered back into the conversation, "Oh! Holidays are definitely getting more and more luxurious", I added. It's amazing how a slight nod, a noncommittal acknowledgment or a muttered response issues forth with immaculate timing even at such levels of abstraction.

Far removed from the din and unperturbed by the impatience, I felt disconnected from the muted show outside my window. This evening, for a change, the frenzy was not a part of my universe. But I felt a restlessness in me that shunned the cozy interior of the softly lit cafe. I was clamoring to be a part of the buzzing road. At that moment, all I wanted was those harsh sodium lamps, the honking in my ears, my fair share of that throbbing urgency.

"I just wish I owned an isolated island somewhere", I said aloud to deceive myself...
 
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