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Journey and Destination

There was an unpleasant emotion spurting in my veins as I returned from the unforeseen confrontation. I had confronted disappointment, but the resultant emotion had nothing in common with the usual hormone inducements after a disappointment. The ordinariness from my reflex was surprisingly absent. It was extraordinary. I did not feel dejected, but I counted my money, the cash in my wallet, instead. And that was the reaction I—surprisingly—showed towards the event. I was coming after my hectic visit to the Library where I owed some books to return. But I had found the library closed, there, kilometers away from my real destination, the cinema house in the city centre. I had to travel double distance, to and from, and that too without any crucial gain. It was, in plain terms, just a waste of time and money, or dejection. My bag was too heavy, loaded full with thick volumes of books.

 
I thought of my hunger that a few moments before was suppressed by two dry Porottas. That was not usual too. I eat boiled rise. But there was the question of Acknowledgement. I had to ‘Acknowledge’ my hunger, and should do something in order to be in harmony with the natural in me. I had got into the restaurant I found first, and eaten what I had seen there: Porotta.

I was back in the city, which was always indifferent to emotions, after the entire hustle bustle. The city, contrary to my point of view, was not that indifferent that day. The city too was moving the same road I was. There would be days when we fall out of the usual circle of comfortable effectiveness, and every thing would become increasingly, unbearably out of control. Just like my journey to the Library and the educated notion about the city. I walked a bit lazily towards my unique destination: probably a social uniqueness, now since the whole of the city was moving towards the same destination. I was walking for the movie house, where the film, The Robot was housed. I am still 45 minutes early, and so will in no chance miss the opportunity to get the ticket.

I was tired, exhausted from the journey to the disappointment, and the uncomfortable Porotta lunch. The sun was in hiding, and rain clouds wandered in constant vigilance to throw up the very next moment. But as every one knows, there are no ways for human beings to assess the future, immediate or distant, in a perfect conscious state of being. There might be ways in a different state of consciousness. The sun may show out at any moment and burn me with its firy brightness. As I reached the cinema house, I realized this as an eternal truth. There was a long queue contrary to my expectations, forty five minutes earlier to the start of the show. However, I found my place in the back. I stood there waiting the time of the opening of the ticket counter, waiting for my chance, this time with all the emotion in their exact place, dejection, in being made to standing there. It could take a lot of time for my chance in the ticket hole.

 
I love to write about transformations. It gives me the pleasure of following the routine, of the care free mentality, the complacence of a tamed eventuality. But when they happen in real life, it surprises me greatly. They are beyond calculations and principles of daily wisdom, just like my space in a long queue: embellished with the ultimate sense of acceptable non-order, called relativity. I realized this when I looked back from the last place in the queue where I was standing. I just looked back; perhaps I was giving myself a little stretch; and then I found the surprising enough phenomenon of relativity. The position I was holding was reversed. The queue had extended further and compared to the entirety of the queue, I was almost in the front part of it, now. The queue was long enough to accommodate the relative change in my place. It seemed to fill back my enthusiasm that was drained by the journey before.

 
I entered into the theatre, after the patient submitting to the line, and still going through a mild fit of the queue depression. But it all paid off as I watched the pale gleam of the wide screen lit by the dim light inside the movie theatre. Then the dim lights dimmed again, and again, sinking the thoughts of my tiresome day into the darkness of the dream gleam. It might take some minutes and then something uncontrollable would take me (and every one there) into the magical world of motion picture. I felt a relieving sensation and decided to think of something else: journey and destination.

Comments

Terri said…
A slice of life...thanks for sharing it all with us.

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