Thinking whenever, wherever

The golden moon was in its fullest glare on the canvas of the sky cushioned over the cotton looking clouds. In the day itself I had realized the temperature had dropped in the city and the winter was somewhere close by. I find travelling along the city forcing itself to stay awake in the neon light from early evening very fascinating. The day had been very tiresome and I could feel the aches in my muscles and a desperate desire to have some rest but sitting by the side of the window of the bus overlooking the moon took away all my tiredness. I didn’t require looking at the watch because from the chilly hint I had got in the day heralding the winter, I was sure that the clock had not stroke 7:00. With winter the days are shorter and from last few days I had realized that I had to switch on the lights early. As the bus slid in the road of the busy city preparing itself for the Dashain, the moon followed us or may be the bus was following the moon. I knew the city was inside the mist of the incomprehensible sounds of the people. When one speaks the other can understand what he/she is talking but when so many people speak the meaning is lost and the words become mere noise. The city was not quiet in the evening but noisier and in hurry. Paces of people longer than normal, their bags holding groceries, vegetables, cloths and so on. I watched a college girl who sat in the seat just before me and who moved her head almost like a sparrow incessantly, I saw she had placed her sweater roughly folded over her shoulder. Sweater was another hint that the winter had already made its presence felt. In spite of the mark on its face the moon still looked beautiful, and as thoughts started simmering inside my head the world that spread across me slept in silence, the men vanished. The silhouettes of buildings, few trees remained somehow as the cool breeze patted my cheek as if it were healing me from the tiredness I had collected during the process of survival of the day.
The inauguration of the website of the office that I had developed had gone well in spite of the trouble with database. The problem identified had already made my next day busy amid commitment to friends to have a meet. The part of year when I become busier than usual has come and this will last for few months. There will be so many things to be taken care of all at a once. Had it been possible to do these works throughout the year, passing time in office would not have been an ordeal. The works that need immediate concerns would not queue up but will jumble up all at once. It will give me a pride postponing personal interests, meetings citing business and pending work. It will make me appear important which I would not otherwise acknowledge. I didn’t know how the moon guessed what I was thinking and it smiled at me out of mockery and I blushed. There is nothing is regret though, what I felt could have been childish and I am proud that I am still childish. During the inauguration program I chatted with colleagues laughed with them made fun shared jokes which were hard to remember. The moon reminded me that my laughter was louder, I had talked most of the time and even that was part of my attempt to drag attention toward me though I don’t know for what. I am not going identity crisis however. After the inauguration when many colleagues of mine came to me congratulating me, wowing what I had done and how it was really something new I felt elated wanted to hop around like a child out of excitement. All of a sudden the feeling of ‘my’ work had taken its toll over me, I have been arrogant at times but I knew that was not arrogance, just an excitement behind the ‘my’ mania.
When the bus rolled around the ‘Ranipokhari’ (the huge pond in the heart of the city) I watched how fast the metal fence moved, I could see them individually through the speed of my bus. The top of the fence pointed and painted yellow. As I looked at the city through the yellow top of the fence the shops that lay on the other side of the pond looked yellowish almost like the moon in the sky.
A sudden jerk of the bus woke me up from my fantasies. The bus was already packed and the conductor was trying to make place for more people. I felt the bag that lay in my lap carrying a projector of my office. I could have left the projector in the venue itself and had it delivered the other day but to show the projector to the children at home excited me. I doubted if my mother had seen something like it (though she has been to movies more than myself she has never wondered how they show movies in those huge curtain). I was thrilled when I imagined the excitement, awe and happiness in the faces of children when I will show them a movie through the projector. I took a sigh and at next stop I got down, fifteen minutes later I was at home.

Disturbed by my own laughter

A colleague came by turning my computer towards her to see what I was doing. She was imitating me because every time I pass by her I do the same thing just with an evil intention to disturb her, today it was her turn. She saw my blog commenting who would read those lengthy posts if it were not in a printed form. I boasted her I had got comments from readers, some in my email and some in the blog itself. I said see the comments and she pouted in disbelief. I guffawed saying most of the comments were my own. I heard myself laugh the way I have never laughed though I knew it was not a planned chuckle. I was surprised at my boisterous laughter which made me silent soon after the realization that it was not my laughter. Had I forgotten the way I laughed just because I hadn’t laughed for a while now, however it does not mean I have been unhappy. I do admit something has been lost in the process, may be its my depression. A trivial thing it may sound but it disturbed me drowning me in deep introspect.
The city did not interest me as it usually do while I was walking toward the bus stand. I missed observing things, people, shops, curios, lamp-posts. When I was in the bus-stand, I was swept with the crowd; there was nothing that could not interest me. I was soon observing the people brought to the stand by purpose or without purpose. I observed the way people talked, the movement of their hands, twitching of their face, the fringes in their dress, latest fashion in the street. The laughter was still reverberating in my head, I knew I was busy observing my world just to avoid the laughter and it was a pretty successful attempt. All of a sudden I realized I haven’t seen the city beyond the route between my home and office, its been a real long time. I knew 8 years was not a long span of time at that instant when I was remembering my days in 11-12 class. Those were loony days of my life. Loneliness is not the absence of people around one, it’s the feeling that one is so away from rest of the world. Yes, I didn’t have many friends then still if numbers were to be spoken of, I have lesser number of friends these days, but I was lonely then, today I enjoy my aloofness. It was not so those days. Those days once in a while I used to take bus that followed a longer route than my regular buses, just because I loved watching the city. I loved the attempts of city to remain alive in the evening. That was my best time. I have rarely recalled those feats; today I wanted to do the same. The bus was empty and I was sitting next to the window, my head resting on my arms which themselves rested on the window of the bus. I am so inconsequential to the world, it does not care if I am watching it, studying it. Truth cannot be extracted from a case, a specimen if it is made aware that it is being observed. I loved watching the movements of lips of children of the crowd, I cannot see the words, their low sound is engulfed by the meaningless noise of the crowd and the meaning of their utterances only become the contribution to the noise. The crowd has no voice (unless it is a demonstration, a rally i.e. the crowd with common cause) still has many faces. It has no shape but it has its existence. People separate from the crowd like the glints from the fire, either they merge into another crowd or vanishes in their inconspicuous homes. I am just the part of the crowd, my guffaw which is not mine is lost in the mob. Yes, that very guffaw that though comes out from me is not mine, I have never heard myself laugh though. My laughter was theatrical. I imagine- I raise my head until I see the ceiling of my cabin, open my mouth wide and spurt the laughter that is not mine. There was nothing to pretend, I was only mocking myself, dismissing the fact that my work has been praised. Now I feel my own magnanimity, the fake enormity of my existence. Here in the crowd I just want to ascertain how trifling my existence is. How my preposterous laughter is meaningless? Why I do not exist for the world when I feel so significant to myself? Not even the dog that is following the crowd begging to be a part of the crowd, a contributor and a representative from his species, has a notion of my existence. Everyone wants to be part of the crowd, I realize somebody has taken the seat next to me. I look at him, he is busy in something I cannot fathom. I keep looking at me observing his small ear, neatly combed hair, birthmark in his cheek, his blue jacket, his smoothly ironed pant, his clean boots, a small spot of dry mud in his left shoe, his long nails, his restless fingers playing among themselves. He becomes aware of my observation, pulls his jacket, looks at me, his small black eyes look irritated and angry. I turn toward the window and smile back. With this smile I have recovered my originality, the fake guffaw has left me.

Anna Karenina

Just a few minutes back I finished Leo Tolstoy’s ‘Anna Karenina’. I read the book after reading ‘War and Peace’ and after reading that Tolstoy considered Anna Karenina as the only novel he wrote obviously because he liked it. Though both his books ‘war and peace’ and ‘Anna Karenina’ are very popular, I liked the former. After reading ‘Anna Karenina’ I wondered why the book was titled thus when Anna’s account is lesser as compared to Levin. Like in ‘War and Peace’ there is elaborate description of parties that used to take place in Tsarian Russia, but I found the book rather dull in the beginning. I loved it towards the end when Anna starts loosing her sanity, she starts living in a fear that Vronsky, the man for whom she left her husband, her son and became a subject of despise to the society has stopped loving her. She puts question and answers the questions on behalf of Vronsky herself. It is such a wonderfully written. One cannot remain without feeling pity for the woman. It’s obviously the story of love if Anna is to be considered but as in War and Peace, Tolstoy ends up with his philosophy about life, religion and the whole world.
While reading ‘War and Peace’, I thought the author is sharing so many things, sufferings of his own through his character Pierre. I was so surprised that what I thought happened to be true. It is written that Pierre is a portrait of Tolstoy himself along with his alter-ego Prince Andrew. Now after reading ‘Anna Karenina’, I am again thinking the character Levin might share resemblances with the author. Even I could associate myself with Levin, the way he thought about death, about religion, about his doubtfulness of his own position if he could change the world.
When Anna leaves her husband, I wondered if that was right thing to do. Isn’t that a cheating, infidelity? Has anyone right to ruin others life. May be it depends upon the circumstances. The instincts of man surprise himself at times owing to the fact that we are selfish by nature. To observe things as a spectator is completely different than actually experiencing the arduous circumstances. It was a pity for Anna who saves the matrimony of her brother in the beginning of the book ruins her own married life and eventually ruining herself. At one end her husband and her son suffers while at others Vronsky suffers for loving her, for fighting the world with might which turns completely against him. Anna a self-confident, lively woman all of a sudden is pushed into never ending suffering.
I have read many books, watched many movies I have thoroughly enjoyed in the beginning but have been let down at the end. When we read a book or watch a movie, we want the zeal to be on the rise. I feel I found many good books insipid because of the way they ended, while there are books that have been dull towards the beginning but highly engaging as it approaches its end. Personally I like books that engages me from its very beginning till its end however if such books are not available I would go for books that might be a little dull in the beginning but progresses eventually. Many people dump a book after reading few pages because they don’t find the book interesting, I on the other hand rarely dump a book once I get hold of it, so for me I like the books which progresses as one turns pages. Anna Karenina is one of such book. The last few pages that deal with Anna’s confusion, restlessness makes the book exquisite.
Though a wonderful tale, I found it dull at times and it was not something I would have repented for not reading.