Paradox Draft #1
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The First Time It Happened I like to believe that I had a purpose. This belief served as a device to alleviate my distress at not having any foreseeable future in this world. It comforted an d reassured me. It told me I was special. It told me that I had a destiny to fulfill. But most importantly, this was the only reason I had to live. Every morning I wou ld lie to myself, so as to get out o f bed, away from comfort and live each day. You could call it a self administered mental anti depressant. If it wasn’t for that philosophy, I would have overdosed on sleeping pills ages ago. Before the events that changed my life, I was a person. On the outside. Just like anyone else. A normal person. But who I was isn’t important. Because I could have been anyone. A man. A woman. A lawyer, a scholar, an alcoholic, a business man, a ho usemaid. It doesn’t matter. But for all practical purposes, lets assume I initially was a twenty year old college student, returning home, in the wake of an unexpected break in the middle of the semester. I was traveling by train. Why? Well, you don’t get the same scenery when you go by plane. All you see are clouds. Apparently, a lot of my contemporaries shared this belief, as the compartment was half occupied by the lot of them. I chose a window seat to be far from all this noise and mayhem as these young people kissed to say goodbye, shouted at their cell phones and climbed over the seats because the aisle was congested. Unfortunately the only window seat I could find was in the middle of the compartment, right at the epicenter of the chaos. I quickly pulled out my headphones and switched to the loudest volume possible. But it did nothing to drown out the laughter of the two girls that were sitting besides me. One of them had said what could be termed as a joke, which I was forced to bear, and they both had started laughing. I felt nauseated instead of h umored. Outside, two people were conversing at the entrance to the bogie. I had to turn my head and press against the glass to see them. One was a former friend or acquaintance, the other was one of those lovely girls whom I knew well yet that person never knew me. These two people were bidding each other goodbye. The guy placed his hand on the girls shoulder and the next moment, they were embracing. The movements were swift and gentle. It was almost natural. Spontaneous. Built In. With his arms around her, they were telling each other something. By touch. Something I’d never understand. A substitute for words. Something I’d never know. It was as soft and subtle as a whisper ................ On the way, I spent most of the time absorbing in the scenery. The train passed through some
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The First Time It Happened
I like to believe that I had a purpose. This belief served as a device to alleviate my distress at nothaving any foreseeable future in this world. It comforted and reassured me. It told me I was
special. It told me that I had a destiny to fulfill. But most importantly, this was the only reason I
had to live. Every morning I would lie to myself, so as to get out of bed, away from comfort andlive each day. You could call it a self administered mental anti depressant. If it wasn’t for that
philosophy, I would have overdosed on sleeping pills ages ago.
Before the events that changed my life, I was a person. On the outside. Just like anyone else. A
normal person. But who I was isn’t important. Because I could have been anyone. A man. A
woman. A lawyer, a scholar, an alcoholic, a business man, a housemaid. It doesn’t matter.
But for all practical purposes, lets assume I initially was a twenty year old college student,
returning home, in the wake of an unexpected break in the middle of the semester. I was
traveling by train. Why? Well, you don’t get the same scenery when you go by plane. All yousee are clouds. Apparently, a lot of my contemporaries shared this belief, as the compartment
was half occupied by the lot of them.I chose a window seat to be far from all this noise and mayhem as these young people kissed to
say goodbye, shouted at their cell phones and climbed over the seats because the aisle was
congested.
Unfortunately the only window seat I could find was in the middle of the compartment, right at
the epicenter of the chaos.
I quickly pulled out my headphones and switched to the loudest volume possible. But it did
nothing to drown out the laughter of the two girls that were sitting besides me. One of them hadsaid what could be termed as a joke, which I was forced to bear, and they both had startedlaughing. I felt nauseated instead of humored.
Outside, two people were conversing at the entrance to the bogie. I had to turn my head and pressagainst the glass to see them. One was a former friend or acquaintance, the other was one of
those lovely girls whom I knew well yet that person never knew me. These two people were
bidding each other goodbye. The guy placed his hand on the girls shoulder and the next moment,
they were embracing. The movements were swift and gentle. It was almost natural. Spontaneous.Built In. With his arms around her, they were telling each other something. By touch. Something
I’d never understand. A substitute for words. Something I’d never know.
It was as soft and subtle as a whisper
................
On the way, I spent most of the time absorbing in the scenery. The train passed through some
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tough terrain to be called the country’s fastest but the view was rewarding. Green plains
extended farther than the eye could see. The mountains remained towering in the background,
blurred by distance. The whole scene through the window was like a still portrait , though thetrain was traveling at a very high speed, the meadows and mountains were so far and vast that
they seemed to be still. The artist who had crafted this landscape, had done so delicately, giving a
soul to each object. The sun, perched in a corner, peered, like an owl.
As time went on the portrait, gradually and gracefully, moved out of its frame.
I had a sudden urge to jump off the train. To leave everything behind. To start a new life. In this
place where heaven and earth converged. Relinquish hold to conformity. I am a slave to
temptation. But I wasn’t suicidal, atleast not now.
But the life I saw, existed only from this side of the windowglass.
Stops were seldom along this part anyway. That is, if my intention was to de-board safely.
Sitting in the same place for two hours and you’ll get tired. The euphoric atmosphere had worn
off, replaced by drowsiness and sweat.
Two seats in front, I could here snippet of a conversation about a recent booker prize recipient.
“Have you read the book?”“Yes. It was heart breaking”
Recognizing that voice, I felt a flurry of rage. I thought of shouting, “No you didn’t. You’re justan idiot, reciting the summary on the back. You couldn’t make it past two pages even if you
tried.”
“beautiful prose to present the world in the eyes of a....”
I hate how people fake to achieve their own ends. . Its one of those things that brings out the pessimism taking the sunshine out of the world.
“used as a metaphor for captivity..”
hey are fake because they want to manipulate and gain something.
“beyond the confines of their four walls”,
“I don't see any point in making illusions about yourself."
“...a profound effect on the mind of the reader...”
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and the dogged determination to live, even in the most desolate circumstances
Some people just simply believe that the best way to advance themselves socially or professionally is by stepping on the necks of others.
“...rife with moments of hope and beauty”
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