real and virtual

And far from all the fret and the fury, far from the noisy bargain of the real world, as I travel this road, every single time, I so long to belong here, once more, forever.

I know I am just a passerby, who has the right of a glance at this rural peace, but not the right to touch it, to feel it, and to relish it. They are scared, that I might devour it, so they conspire to keep me apart. And I could never make them understand that I stand here, with greedy eyes, only to admire, and not devour.

As I think of my now and my then, I so long to return to the then again. As I laze in my terrace roof, basking under the warmth of the late winter afternoon, I can’t see a human object around me; except for the rows of wet clothes, waiting patiently to be dried crispy by the power of the sun. And yet again, I realize that such a power holds this soil. The power to keep me back, but unfortunately it holds me no more. It has let me loose, for quite a while now. And I have since then, been like a creeper, living a parasitic existence. But somehow, I am reminded of this ancient myth, wherein the earth opened up and threw her out, only to take her back in due time. I relate so much to her. But I know, between the out and the in, between the rejecting and the absorbing, there are a series of tasks I am bound to perform. An episodic epic, my life is to compose.

As I lie down on the terrace, my laptop being my only connection to the outer world, I suddenly hear a ping. I chat away blissfully, forgetting the entire existence momentarily. I smile, I frown, I think, I laugh… but it is only momentary. And I love this, even if I know quite well, that this is only virtual, and far removed from the mundane reality of the everyday world you and I live in. I do not visualize you with a head, torso, and limbs. You are to me, like a square box, with random lines erupting like a volcano out of nowhere; and it is again momentarily, that I want to melt away in the heat, though my real existence is almost frozen. I regain my senses, to look around, and realize that the afternoon has said goodbye, and the sun has been down for quite long now. I gaze up to see a thousand twinkling lights above my head; I reach out my hands, but can’t touch them, can’t count them. It’s winter here, and I realize I must have more clothes on. My flimsy adornment can’t fight the chilly winter evening. Hence I bid goodbye to the momentary warmth of your volcanic existence, to cover my real self up and defend myself against the cold reality.