THE RING CIRCLE
"They say, unless you taste the bitterness of failure, you can't appreciate the sweetness of success. But I say, when you finally do taste the sweetness of success, you grow ever apprehensive of the embitterments of the past to come and ruin your present. You cling cancer-like to your beautiful present, in turn, hurting and maligning it beyond repairs. I too have fallen prey to the ghosts of my past, fearing their return, instigating to come back and mock and jeer at my present. I am losing my present. I am scared. I confess, thusly."
Circle. The first shape that comes into our mind when we say "symmetry"...a perfect round body, symmetric from any helluvan angle u look from. The shape of earth, the shape of the world, the shape of earth, the shape of life...and everything that constitutes it.
Lives are supposed to take a full circle, everyone's, and hence, so did mine. A self-centered comment that I would like to make on mine is that it seems to move in a cycle. So many rotations in such a short span of time, that as soon as I find myself getting accustomed to a particular frequency, it suddenly decides to change its time period, AND amplitude.
So one fine Sunday morning which was characterised by an early rise, and an expectant day ahead, I reluctantly withdrew myself from my cozy cozy sheets, banged open my laptop characteristically (I AM harsh wit it inspite of the infinte solace i find in its realms), and looked at the right-bottom corner towards the date and time tab. Its a routine. My eyes automatically dart towards that area as soon as I switch on my system, as I don't happen to possess any other source of time-date teller machine in my room (barring, of course, my cellphone, which is usually discharged, much to the anger of my mom and the resigned displeasure of my dad). My heart gave a little leap of joyous-anxiety and forgot to beat a couple of times...(ie. if I can manage to get away with the above sentence without sounding overtly oxymoronic). It seemed as if the bass-harp, that The Mighty Sheldore very much despises in the second episode of the fifth season of BBT, started playing in the background to supposedly transfer me to the same day , a year ago.
The day, as my personal diary, that doesn't possess any entry after the 4th of january, 2011, reckons, started as any other normal day, without giving away any premonitions of the capers to follow. I quickly skim through the 6 page long entry in my diary and jot down the essential and forgettable bullet-points.
1030 hours: I chop down my left thumb with a jack-planer in the engg workshop, get rushed to the college-dispensary.
1230 hours: I realise my extremely prized Android goes missing.
1300 hours: After returning to the hostel in a completely dishevelled physical n mental state, I realise my Longines is missing.
1400 hours: The warden comes knocking at my door, with a contingent of grumpy looking people, downright ordering me to present my room for a routine check.
1415 hours: Some strangely familiar bottles are found in my room, containing liquids that oddly resembled pee.
1500 hours: I m taken away for a gruelling questionnaire by the warden, the superintendent and the hostel-caretaker. Accused of being a schizophrenic and an unsocial element with a disturbed state of mind and highly amnesic.
1700 hours: I finally break down.
1900 hours: I give away all the ghory and gruesome details about the people I suspect have a hand in all this.
2000 hours: The named-famed people are taken away for alcohol-check. Test positive.
2300 hours: A sorry note and a bar of chocoalte later, I go back to sleep.
Seems a happy ending to a terrible day. Doesn't it? The day ended but the cleavage-showing, bum-dancing and honey-serving words of the namies don't end here. After receiving a black dot and a couple of reprimands each, the named's finally get down to action again. The semester was all theirs now.
How long have you gone without listening to the sound of your own voice? How many days have you spent at a stretch with people melting away at your sight? How many stories have you heard about yourself whose origin was somewhere approximately near Uranus, the orbit that of Pluto and the end near the Andromeda galaxy...light years away from your own existence?
No, life is not a circle. Its a spiral. A closing spiral for some, an infinitely increasing for the other few. I started small, bumped, stumbled over some pretty thickety rocks, Grew, and seem to have fallen again. This time, on a broader chasm than before.
They say, unless you taste the bitterness of failure, you can't appreciate the sweetness of success. But I say, when you finally do taste the sweetness of success, you grow ever apprehensive of the embitterments of the past to come and ruin your present. You cling cancer-like to your beautiful present, in turn, hurting and maligning it beyond repairs. I too have fallen prey to the ghosts of my past, fearing their return, instigating to come back and mock and jeer at my present. I am losing my present. I am scared. I confess, thusly.
