Some Pages from the Diary of a Nobody

Two mirror image houses...perhaps the owners are related i thought. There was some curiosity to know why the other house had no name. Kept wondering if one of them was built as an added extension but it couldn't be for they had between them a wall and separate gates. The wall and the gate hinting, this is mine and that is yours.

The two houses in that posh colony, plain and without any of those frills and fusses of it's neighbors stood close if not together just like my two brothers.
i brushed aside the thoughts about my brothers. It would've disturbed my equilibrium.
i started searching for beauty in simplicity instead. Maybe prompted by the name of one of them concrete twins.
'Sunder House' meaning beautiful, pretty...
Don't know about the occupants but i tried to listen what one concrete was saying to the other.
i thought i heard Emily Dickinson.

I'm nobody! Who are you?
Are you nobody, too?
Then there's a pair of us — don't tell!
They'd banish us, you know.

How dreary to be somebody!
How public, like a frog
To tell your name the livelong day
To an admiring bog!
http://www.beyondbooks.com/mediafiles/programs/lit71/nobodypoetry.mp3

Suddenly that pain hit me.

i thought i was happy in my bliss of solitude but i was not.

i realized i was not only alone but also very lonely.

Deep inside embedded within me was a board , a cold plate that said TO-LET.

i look at the twins and tears streamed incessantly, uncontrollably as i let it flow. 

Isn't there any one out there who is a nobody like me...

Objects can be mirror images but people? 

We have twins for people too but they too are not mirror images either, not entirely.

Maybe i wouldn't want to have another me for then there would not be any specialty in being that nobody. Would there?
But i yearn, long and seek another who understands and accepts me and is comfortable with the the way i am.
Where do i look for another anonymous in this world where i see not people but infinite and newer efforts to impress.
Talking, doing, getting together... with all the frills, fusses and embellishments...everything that makes the other say, WOW! GREAT! WELL DONE...


How presumptuous of me to banish the thoughts of my brothers thinking i would be okay just listening to Emily Dickinson.
http://www.beyondbooks.com/mediafiles/programs/lit71/nobodypoetry.mp3

Here i was as unstable like a top in it's final phase of gyration, trying to twirl a wee bit more, holding on to the inertia, finally making sloppy and irregular ellipsis just before it topples over to lie dead still on the ground.

Tears with all it's saltiness on my tongue continue it's journey making raindrop like wet patches randomly on my shirt. Then dissipating into the weave of the cotton shirt, the wetness reminding me that there is no one not a single great less who could embrace another wow less in all her anonymity.
That another one who could resonate with my own, find stability in simplicity and help me through my own development in this system called life is simply not there.
This one out of the entire species has evaporated, dissipated into the world wide web.
The ache however has not evaporated instead is holding me steadfast. Only stubborn enough to choke and make me gasp for some breath than to willingly accept that the simple codes of simple friendships are extinct and our lives are getting frittered away in details.
One of the simple codes being is to expect. It's impossible not to have expectations from friendship.
The most important being accepted and understood.
Not that expect huge favors which normally friends these days seek out but genuine and small gestures.
Reciprocity can be another.


i'm tired and sort of fed up of just giving news that's entertaining to others, that too at my cost.
And i'm scared of drowning into a virtual world where i seek solace from virtual friends.
Expectations remaining unfulfilled i seem to be forging new bonds in the virtual world.
i don't know if i am on the right track or losing myself but my virtual world provides me with some solace if not all.

i am a rock too as this song says. Erosion, chipping, weathering feels more normal.
But rocks are not supposed to feel pain.
i am an island too but then why am i mourning like someone has died?


i thought i don't need real friends anymore but i was mistaken. 
i feel utterly lonely. i don't have anybody with whom i can truly be honest with.
i am fed up of conforming.
i am exhausted in my efforts to be kind always.
i am sick of the hypocrisy.
Oh God i don't have anybody who can see the real me and still be my true friend,
i thought i can manage being on my own  but NO! i do need someone who is not fake and with whom i need not be fake too. 
But most of all i need a NOBODY who has the inclination and the time for a nobody like me.
SOMEBODYS have better things in their agenda.
Even that concrete has another to give it company and i am after all a human.
i thought i was safe in my domain and no one can use me, insult me or hurt me anymore.
i drifted... away...further...
But now i need...
-i need to have normal honest conversations.
-i need to share my joys and sorrows.
-i need to hear joys and sorrows of someone.
- i need someone i am comfortable and free with.
-i need someone to be comfortable and free with me
-i need some one who can accept me with all my foils and foibles
-i need to accept someone who is not perfect too.
-i need...i need...
Where do i look...Oh God i have no one.

Finally when enough tears are shed and the heart feels lighter, stability returns like the hopeful rays of a new dawn. 

Look no further...the ray scribbles on that plate that has a TO-LET.

Accept and move on... the dawn signals.

i give one more look at the concrete twins, dropped the camera that tried to capture the twins whispering Emily Dickinson into the bag, pulled out a fresh citrus smelling wet wipe and did the needful to my sticky salty face, looked for a dustbin to throw the wet wipe. Spotted none only the neat well kept exteriors of those stylish houses. 

 Then holding the partially dry wet wipe in my hands like a miniature flag that fluttered as if proclaiming freedom,  i walked home absorbing the citrus whiff that continued to emanate from that white flag.
i didn't realize when all of Emily Dickinson, Paul Simon Art Garfunkel stopped and i started to mull over what my son had asked me over the phone last week...TO BE CONTD
Sure, but not without something to cheer up.

                                              Colour For Tuesday-Pink

Pink Hibiscus

http://www.allabouthappylife.com/wallpapers/hibiscus/hibiscus-flower-desktop.html

Image Courtesy:http://www.clipartguide.com/_pages/0511-1002-1704-3845.html