Xonfession- II

                                                                                                                        Descartes: "I think so I am."
                                                                                    Humanity: "I felt, so I was."

"The end is near",

 whispers warning, threatening, pleading; they seep in, covert, from an unknown corner of the mind, the domain of the forgotten memories. They reach towards the center of my being, where my conscious resides, identifying me. Me, once a boy with heads above the clouds, who walked this earth unmoved by the rationality of the material. Me, always one with the tumultuous flow of emotions enveloped within the embrace of every single moment; by the rising tide of excitement and the falling calm to the ordinary, but no more, no more I was, now I am. 

I am the by-product of the same malleable substance that everyone once was, a child full of questions, the curious mind, now shaped into a personality of rigidness, a useful cog in the great thinking machinery of the human system. I was, no longer exists, for it is past, only I am and will be, exists, I, one who was one of the naïve, I who am the quintessence parcel of survivability, struggling only to exist, for some time... 

The warmth of the sun has started to lose its familiar heat, cold nights have become stark and lonelier; with parting familiar faces blending in, fading into the indistinct masses of strangers, the diverse taste of food which delighted my voracious appetite has started to go bland, potent words rich in meaning have lost the sharpness of intent, comforting music no more rhymes with the melodies of pulsating heart, ephemeral beauty the true inspiration of artists of all walks of life no longer make my head turn, indefatigable thoughts have erringly become silent, unlike how it used to be, when they chattered even in the silence, especially the unique silence accompanying me, only me.

 Now. The only thought that recurs, does so, in the background, "The end is near, it is near.."  Yes, it is warning, threatening, and shamelessly pleading. It has without contrition replaced, all which I had loved, hated, had an opinion about, ah! they are no more real; those feelings. The feeling of wonder is wondering no more, nor does the passion that accompanied it, on each discovery of new experience, when knowing the essence of a solution to a puzzle invoked satisfaction of such measure, that had no measure to measure. Now it is no more, no more...Nothing feels new anymore or incites the level of curiosity it used to. Curiosity! Satisfaction! Blah!! I feel only lost, in the endless lines of humanity, congregating in the confusion of chaos, their desire to reach destinations of someone's choice, which they believe as their own. As deep and deeper thoughts delve into the endless monologue with itself, I can find no answers, with even questions asked are fading unwittingly in the darkness of the mind. There comes a time, knowing not what I have lost, I lay still for hours, as those hours slow to minutes and minutes into seconds, and those seconds barely move. Time. All I ever have, for now, is, defined by that moment, frozen. 

 Only time understands truly, the loneliness of my mind betrayed by the senses, as if, as if time will never run out, like ever. But! for once, I am shaken wide awake when my eyes spontaneously glance onto the smashed corpses of feline on the very center of the road, untended, uncared, there lying there for god knows how long, I try not to think, not to feel, the horror and a kind of sadness, that weights the heart down and wells tears in the eyes, I try not to think, not to feel, not to be what once I was. Yet still, the image so graphic, grips my mind in a vice-like hold, like a  predator holding its prey whose agony it cares not, it only is hungry, angry but jubilant from a successful hunt, to partake its meal of the day. It breathes life into that malleable mind I thought long-gone, long dead, to resurrect, reaching out to question the present me, "Is this not the end? to die? to die without dignity that befits a living sentient creature? true death? if this is not the end, then what is?

Is it not true that we are dying at this very moment, were we not dying from the time we were born and till the last sigh of finality. Is dying so bad? Is it so good? Does death means the death of the consciousness or does it mean physical death? What about your soul that priests preach to save or pandits read holy books to ascend to so-called higher realm? I question myself as I look at the mirror, What I see is the image of the physical me staring with the tired eyes, then their glance falls on the protruding structure, at the potbelly, hail the belly! (जय भुडी ) Suddenly, reminiscent of the jocular past, a feeling arises, that I had, when what my teacher taught me during my school days, came fresh to my mind, oh we do not worship sincerely to all that which is heavenly, we do not fear of dying, we fear of going hungry, we worry about our next meal, and that worry, it felt good, and unconsciously I could feel it shaking and for the first time after a long time, I laughed.

 I laughed from deep down inside of myself, not holding back, unbridled it came loud. I laughed without caring for me or others, without feeling sorry for myself or that which no more lives, I laughed at the absurdity of the silence I have carved myself into, I laughed at the naivety I had left ruthlessly in the doors of childhood memories, I laughed at the bumbling teenager trying to understand the newfound strength, the overflowing hormones in the body with a confused mind, I laughed at the current me toiling my days, for hours and for days, searching and re-searching for things, for meanings, I will never need, perhaps truthfully never care, if I was not paid to do so. I laughed at everything and anything that ever existed, that ever exists for now, and will do so in the future. I just laughed at life and at death, the circle which moves with the current of time and I laughed, and laughed, till it hurt, the good hurt. I was tired I could stand it no more, on my knees, then, I stopped laughing.

Still, till this time, as my hands type away these words, I can hear the endless laughter inside of myself, replacing those incessant whispers long ago, which menaced my mind numbed unto the silence. Only the feeling of unrestrained laughter from my malleable mind remains, from then and there, never to cease. It will never cease, perhaps even after the finality every living breathing being should go through. And I felt good, it felt natural to feel again, to embrace a part of the naivete, a past that links me to the present...

" By the rising tide of excitement and the falling calm to the ordinary."

                                                                        I am alive.