The Deep Side Of The Pool

Silence is an expression. The disadvantage it enjoys is that it is difficult to decipher. Sometimes people don’t understand you. Sometimes friendliness veils hypocrisy. But that should be expected because images are very superficial. They are man made mirages shimmering in the heat of urban aspiration.

Silence is not my tool. It is my prayer. It is my secret desire. Success doesn’t mean where I have reached. It talks about the obstacles I have managed to cross. Futility is not created but it’s already there, like a rock in the middle of a stream.

I have visions of a surreal world where everyone is perfect. But perfection lies in the rough edges of a person. The question is, whether those edges fit, like a jigsaw puzzle, against mine.

Sometimes I see the truth and can’t accept it. Sometimes, the truth doesn’t accept me. Then silence takes over.

The watch showed 11.56 pm. I was in my balcony. The shawl tried hard to keep me warm. The fog kept me mystified. I drew in the wetness and my smoke starched lungs struggled.

I thought about the people who mattered. Only two of them were with me. One sleeping, the other down with fever in Kolkata. Somewhere a DJ shouted out the countdown. I smiled and wished the others Happy New Year.

Anand and Indra had called from Goa. They spoke about nirvana. I felt the fog again and was glad that it was there.