All my bags are packed

It rained tonight. It rained with all its glory. I was expecting it somehow. Still for others this November rain seemed odd. I always say the hints are all around us. We just need to see them with open hearts. And hints are what I saw. I knew it would rain. But that knowledge did not take away the astonishment when it ‘did’ rain. I watched it on the window glass and thought of all the innumerable times a poet or a writer wrote about the serene beauty of these tiny sprinkles of life on the window pane. I wondered, did anyone ever write about the chill that accompanies it. Did anyone speak about the frightening thundering that it brings? Did anyone talk about how a sleepless night it is? I guess not. But as they say, why destroy beauty...

So I stood there looking outside my window, seeing something... The reflection of my baggage strew all across my room. Isn’t it amazing I needed to look outside to see the huge pile of my belongings lying inside? Looking inside, there were my belongings, looking through the window it was just my baggage. A single entity without any attachment, without any substance. Looking inside, each bag, each fluttering paper, each clothing and each household item had a story to it. Each had ‘my’ story to it. Each story that I had lived, each story I wished I had lived again, I sat there listening.

Time flew and so did my soaring imagination. I saw the days that had gone by fused them with the days to come. I created a perfect symphony of dreams and reality and imagination. Tonight I could be anything I wished, I could do anything I wanted. Tonight I lived my past and the future I wanted.

The musical rain got me on my feet. The symphony in my mind and the raindrops outside created the tango of fantasy... I danced tonight. Danced for the possibilities and danced for the regrets... I danced.

Suddenly I realised I wasn’t alone. There was someone else outside the window that was dancing too. My reflection drenched in the raindrops on the window pane. It smiled at me when I gaped at it. It smiled at my pile of baggage. In its eyes I saw my belongings transforming to a meaningless crowd of useless and heavy carry-ons. I wanted to stop the transformation. I wanted these belongings to remain the way that they were. Untouched, haphazard and full of past as they seemed to me. But it suddenly struck me that in a couple of hours morning will come and if this baggage is not cleared by then someone else will pack them up for me anyways. Pack up all those memories, those moments and those broken pieces of life I once had. It was then just a matter of time.

I decided to look outside my window for some time. The raindrops crashed on it like little miracles. I saw myself outside the window looking inside. Unchained and free. The proposition interested me more. I wondered then... Are memories slaves of some unarranged baggage? Is my life only what it was uptil this night? The beauty of past is that we can choose to remember the wonderful parts and forget the dark parts. And anyways the view outside my window was beautiful even with the chill and the thundering. Now I just wanted to stand by the window and keep looking outside. Look at all the things there and feel them. Tomorrow I will stand there in the garden and God only knows how beautiful it will look in the morning light. I wanted to be there and imagine what morning would bring... the good with the bad and the ugly.

But some things needed to be taken care of. I sat next to my baggage and started packing them up one by one with utmost care. They still sang the stories that I loved. I cried, I laughed, I got angry and happy with every tale narrated again and again. But this time around they couldn’t drown out the sound of the pouring rain, the thunder and the blowing wind. I don’t know if the weather strengthened or the stories faded but there came a time when all I could remember was just how hastily I packed my bags tonight...

Did something hit me? part 2

I am not as precise and focussed as I may seem. I falter more often than it seems. I have wanted different things at different times and if you look closely I may seem promiscuous. But again a little closer look will reveal that I have one common thread on which I base my promiscuousness. That common thread is – to be and do whatever I truly believe in at that point of time. I want to give my 100 % if I want something really bad. I land up giving 150%. But don’t be fooled to believe I am your general case of varied ambitious interests. I believe I am as un-ambitious as a housewife of the 1920’s. As un-ambitious as a tired father of the bride, who’s bride is as good-looking as a toad. My ambition is just one. Do whatever I feel truly about. The keywords being whatever and feel... So does that make me a sentimental fool?

I had a dream. An attainable but very difficult one. Nature intervened and gave me something on my lap which was 90% of what I wanted. But what the heck, you are supposed to dream for the sky so that you at least reach the tree top. I had reached the highest treetop in the vicinity. It seemed to all (and therefore to me) the best possible option I could have. I was happy. Or was I? I waited, patiently. Looked all around. What I missed was the dejection, the failed efforts, the pitiful condolences... do I sound like a loser on the loose? What I did get was whispered appreciation of how lucky I was (and therefore I believed I was lucky), little sobbing cries of people who failed and were weary of my reward well received. I had no reason to miss the dream, so I missed losing the dream instead... At least I wanted to have the pleasure of losing my dream... Complicated? It is as simple as animal instinct.

I’d be lying if I said I took this time to prepare of my dream. I didn’t. I gave in to the easier option of being happy with what I had. I did. When I came face to face with the opportunity to look at the fiery gates of my struggle for the dream... I couldn’t hold back. I jumped in the bandwagon. I know what scenario you would expect. I gave up everything to pursue my dream. I didn’t. I kept what I had and went on to achieve what I truly wanted. An added cherry on my creamy delicious cake. Does is take away any bit from my glory? I dare you to do that and if you even think of doing that, I will chop you into tiny pieces and have them myself for breakfast.

Looking back it was as difficult for me to get what I have today as everybody else, only a little bit more difficult. I had other constrains which others didn’t and when I saw everywhere around me, all wondered why did I jump down from my treetop. Why did I take a place in the bandwagon when there was no real need to do that? But I did and today I am where I wanted to be. Up on cloud number nine. And there ain’t no place I would rather be... as said by Bryan Adams. At least for right now. I don’t know later which other cloud I will want to be on. I know someone else would have given a hand or leg to get where I am today. I haven’t. I wouldn’t have. But I have what they wanted and I don’t know for how long I want it either. But I want it now and I have it now. I put on stake whatever I was asked for. I played the game fair and square.

The ecstasy is beyond words. The happiness is real now. I know what has hit me today. Because IT hasn’t hit me, I have banged myself on it.

(The writer is extremely happy and too over excited to bother about the repercussion of putting up posts like these which will be read by people who aren’t exactly as happy about the game results. The writer would suggest – CHILL! And let her enjoy her moment of glory...)