In the Beginning

It was a relatively dull morning. It had no intentions of doing anything good. Yet, he woke up with full of unknown joy. The joy of not being amongst many. The joy of not having to share other people's sorrow. Grief is something which is the worst outcome of evolution. This chemical reaction in the brains of human beings has developed unimaginable popularity. Why being sad is so appealing? Does it reveal that you are sensitive? Or it means you are just an attention seeker. This is what he was thinking while he got up from his bed. There were many other things to think about.  Starting from the last week, the work pressure was high. Being a freelance writer has its downsides. The upsides are too much to compensate everything else.  Owning an apartment was nothing exceptional. But buying an 18^th century Bungalow was quite an achievement. And moreover the decorum itself inspired him to work on the otherwise meaningless pieces of writing.

It was overcastted. He made his morning coffee. Spring was yet to arrive. He was in his early sixties, yet there were many springs to come. At least that’s what he thought. He stood alone in the balcony, staring at the manner in which the dry leaves of the garden were swirling in the wind which accompanied the dark clouds. It was going to rain. Rain brings hope. It was indeed a nice day after all. It was yet to start for him, but somehow he got that feeling. Sometime he feels this insecurity within him to define everything which looks random. Categorizing everything into some predictive pattern. May be it is the insecurity within him and inability to observe things as random, is what makes him to define patterns. It has been long, since he last felt anything negative. He was as happy as he always had been.  

He sat down for work. There was not any work for the day. He needed a day off. May be he should go and pick up the groceries from the stores. May be he should go out and have a lunch in one his favorite restaurants in the city. There are many in fact. Somehow he lost the urge to watch new movies. Is that something sad? He recalled that time when he started this apparently bizarre profession, there were many new movies coming up every week. Just as he thought about that, it reminded him of her again. Does it make him sad? Sad enough to feel grief? But it was not only her, as everything else also got changed. The entire landscape of the city changed. The tongue in which he used to crack jokes and kiss his girl good night over phone also changed. Changed irritated him. Now it does not matter anymore. Because he is not changing. Sometimes he wonders why people make such a fuss about life. What’s there in it after all? He is old enough to feel life. But what he feels are these waves inside him, crashing constantly on his head and compelling him to write again and again. Creativity was not a passion for him, but a compulsion. Yes, it was due to these spontaneous waves, he cannot really stop.

Its 11:30 now. He feels thirsty again. Hunger is no longer an overwhelming sensation for him. But thirst still is. May be he is changing a bit now. But the fun part of living life is always there.