Do I really need someone to smack me in the head? Do I need circumstance to force me to walk the line? This situation and these emotions are not unprecedented. People fight and get crushed. Money remains standing above all. Money-God is crafty and it is really hard to stay out of that whole business. Even ‘Gordon Comstock’ gave up the fight. Everyone does. They settle with the Money-God and his minions. They give in. Society,religion and above all money rule.With this realization, I sink down in ennui and start feeling helpless. Everything seems irrelevant and futile. I turn inwards and my mind wanders around. My eyes flutter and the stack of books in the corner of my room catches my attention. I always tend to forget that I have a decent outlet after all. I pounce on my savior. I try to pull out this book, The sense of an Ending,from the bottom of the pile. A hardcover. Dusty on sides. I shake off the dust and open the book. The smell of pages, oxidized over time, takes over me. I feel spell-bound. I take out all the books I love. An old copy of To Kill a Mockingbird. Another hardcover by Orhan Pamuk. A dogeared copy of A Train to Pakistan. All the George Orwell’s works. I spread them all on my bed.I open them one by one and get high on aroma of the pages like a junky on meth.I forget about the dreadful world out there. I feel sanguine again. The clouds in my mind wade off. Everything is sunshine and roses.May be I don’t have to stand out and keep on the fight!! Worthless,it is. If I have no where to go out I can always turn inwards. I can sit here in my room with books around. I can let the paper engulf me. I can let it take me in its stride. I pore through books looking for the resonating paragraphs.
Chair,bed,chair,bed,balcony,chair,bed. Sometimes my spine erected and sometimes supine. Everywhere and through time. Prose and rhyme. Calm. Happy. I am fine.