On nights like these, when peace is available only in the company of solitude, I sit in my balcony all by myself, detaching myself from the outside world as well as the world that lives inside my home. Separated by a loyal door that guards my silence well, I feel safe and sound here inside my iron cladded fortress of serenity, at a height where bugs don't reach. And by bugs, I mean the noise that comes from my home.
But my fortress is very much vulnerable to the noise the outside world holds, or rather roars. Coz I live near a busy railway station, in a city which intersects two major parts of the state. The annoying trains just don't ever leave me alone in peace for a minute. But tonight I try to keep my ego aside and search for a friend in them. I try to count the time taken by a local train between its appearance and disappearance. And to my surprise, it's only 8 seconds for 12 coaches to pass before my eyes. Normally it would seem it like an eternity of suffering, but today when I don't want it to, it moves away fast, just like a good time.
The reason I don't want it to leave is coz this 12-coached rail carries lives, and the stories these lives hold. All of them, far from my reach, ebbing away from me on a moving piece of metal that makes a lot of noise. On nights like these, I wish to sit beside them and hear them out. I'd wanna listen to each of them cry their hearts out or bask in the joy their lives have given them. But to no avail, I just sit here watching them leave before eyes. These people and their stories, hanging by the bar, one slip of a grip away from becoming a story in the next day's news, in a small column under a large advertisement which no one bothers to read. All of them, are but a slave to monotony. Even you and me.
But there's some good in monotony. Even though it bores them to death, it's a way to feed their stomachs. The route they take to work everyday, is often unchanged and the reason they complete the orbit, keeps their families alive, in the sense they don't have to bear the pain of their absense or even worry about not getting fed.
My dad, just like one of them, takes the same route to work. I see him leave home with that same tired face everyday and return with a more tired one. After being outside for the entire day, he reaches home at night, finally back to their kids and wife. But upon entering through the door, he doesn't go for the glass of cold water that I offer with a smile, instead for our cat that runs towards him hearing the bell. He picks her up and holds her in his arms, and a smile instantly sprouts on his face. A relieving, calm and lively smile for a female cat whom god compensated him with for not giving him any daughter. With his adopted daughter beside him, the day he started with a tiring face ends with a calm one.
The monotony I live, is not as bad as him. I'm a different kind of slave to it. I rest on my balcony for the most part of the day, binding together words that are far from pretty, in places that don't seem odd to an untrained eye. But some easily look through my scattered thoughts and grin over my incompetence of not sticking to the subject. Coz the start often gets derailed midway, and the story gets lost before reaching home.
And on some days, the words just don't appear to me easily. The track remains empty and pale and the bigger portion of the blame goes to the kind of music I listen to. I intake music in excess amount, more than it's necessary, like the addict I am. The atmosphere surrounding my ears is always impregnated with likes of Kendrick, Eminem, and also the mumble stuff they both despise so religiously. But all those songs have one thing in common, although there's a seemingly big difference in subject matter, all are up-beat in nature and keep me away from feeling anything other than joy. They dry my emotional well, soak the entire pain out of me, and fill it up to the brim with chill and good vibes. And what good is a writer without the element of pain and melancholy?
So on nights I wish to write, I search for those same old 10 sad songs that make me go on a sad trip without fail. But before I begin my journey of pain, I have to dig them out from my playlist of 1800 other songs that induce me with dopamine. It takes a good ten minutes to find them and to line them up in a queue that'll hopefully be the cause of an emotional rollercoaster between my eyes and cheeks.
On nights like these, when the writer in me demands pain, I get drunk on these songs that the sober me won't listen to on an average day and come up with thoughts that the sober me can't process well.
As I begin to immerse in these songs, the train of emotions arrives, I sit back in my seat and let it take me to a place where there's no land, just oceans of water stretching till my eyes could see. Without knowing how to properly swim through this melancholy, I start drowning. These songs amplify the few little problems I have into massives ones that rain anxiety over me. It really pulls me in like an afternoon sleep after a person spends the entire night staying up. And this make believe sadness, although strong for a cheerful fellow like me, is less intoxicating than the lives some people live.
Now even though I don't have the faintest idea about the kind of slave you are to monotony, but one thing I do know of is the time you devote to mirakee is a lot. I see you here, on my feed without fail, sharing the same type of love, heartbreak and pain everyday. You read the same hurt and feed on the same lies too but I hope this breaks that chain. I hope you you've experienced something new with this piece.
Coz unlike me, you actually got to read the story you wanted to read. It didn't just pass before your eyes like those people and their stories passed before mine. And I know you'll value that and keep it in your heart, wherever you'll go. For days the track remains vacant and there's no train in sight, you'll be sitting by the platform reminiscing the journey I took you on tonight in these last 12 paras you just read.
PS: the colour of the bg resembles with the colour paint the local trains of my city are coated with.