HelloA Story by Rashmi
I said "Hello" to the thousand colourful lights that burst into the darkness. I forget if it was the night sky or my mind behind closed eyes. But anyway, the lights, they were there. I had not expected them, even though I had idly prayed for them. Do you know the feeling when you haven't been sleeping well and you haven't been eating and you feel too sad to even call it sadness, to talk about it, to think about it, when you get really tired, from within? And you feel so close to the universe, to the rhythm that makes the world go round, to places you never noticed before, to people you never knew? And the lights are those places and those people, and the colours are the shift of emotions on unknown faces. There is such a comfort in being unknown. All your suffering becomes a story, something unreal and sweet. Nothing is ugly anymore. Light as a feather, you fly on the cold night breeze, over cities and countries, quietly observing your own story unfolding in so many homes and so many faces. And it becomes alright. You don't know what you'll do when tomorrow comes. But you know you'll do what the unknowns are doing and that is sure to work.
I don't know where I'm going, but it's the kind of time when you like to talk, you know. And I know you have nothing else to do. You'll listen to anything to keep yourself from thinking, from being alone. Well, there was a time when I believed in only one half of the world. Light without darkness, love without selfishness, happiness without pain. And I believed in my uniqueness. And I believed life was about adding. Adding to yourself; adding love, esteem, experiences, money, wisdom. But life is a lot about subtraction too. Losing sense, innocence, love, scruples. But I still think it's fair, it evens out, don't you? And we're not unique. I thought it would be an awful feeling, but it's a little comforting. Just look at you, you look just like me. Your face turns from boredom to a slow sardonic smile, just like mine does. And that's how the eyebrows go up, see. The same life-changing events are occurring in my ant-hill too. It's random. It doesn't mean anything. We're one of the bursts of light in a vast universe, momentarily meaningful, but unimportant between the millions of years gone by and the millions of years to come. Take comfort in the fact that whatever you do, it doesn't affect anything. Not even yourself. There is great freedom for the unknowns. If you mess it up, some other unknown will get it right and it will be mathematically stable, it's just a matter of odds, just a matter of probability.
What is it that you said? It doesn't matter, I have your words in my throat and your voice in my brain. And I am possessive of my time when I talk. So well, there's another thing I'd like to talk to you about. It's something I don't like about myself, something that scares me greatly. The thing is, my happiness, my well-being hugely depends on flesh and bones. There are a few well-known unknowns in my hill and I won't survive without them. And you know very well, how fragile these unknowns, these bags of flesh and bones are. Fall off a flight of stairs, break your neck, poof! gone. It's that simple. It makes sense to not care. Where one ant goes, thousands are born. But I can't convince myself to stop caring. It makes me weak, eats into my freedom. It's one thing to be unknown and free, it's a wise compromise. But to be an unknown prisoner is not my cup of tea. And this caring ties me down when I fly off into the night sky, to look at my story in your home. Was it the night sky or my mind behind eyes shut, I can't recollect.
© 2012 Rashmi
Added on May 4, 2012
Last Updated on May 4, 2012