I have been a dreamer always, observing random people, staying absent minded, gaping towards the distant skies, deriving patterns from clouds. I like doing strange things too, like smelling old books, running my fingers over the tiny droplets that gather on a glass with cold water and melting a chocolate over my tongue before gulping it.
My mind is never quiet. Sometimes it makes me feel as if I am in a music video when I hear soft crooning melodies on my phone during a cloudy and windy June morning. It keeps talking to me always, about the books I should read, things I should write and a lot of gibberish.
The place I work is centrally air conditioned, so sometimes I remove my shoes and feel the cold granite floor beneath me, it makes me feel alive. I love tracing the innumerable tiny droplets of rain that trickle down the glass panes of my office window panels. I love looking at the amber glow of the countless street lights that pass by me while returning from work.
I can’t help but notice the little spark in the people I meet. Sometimes it might be their eyes, which hold a million dreams, their voices, which contain a million unspoken words or their smile, which is a gateway to their soul. I love moving beyond the mundane conversations to explore their dreams, their aspirations and their perspective about life. I have had heart to heart conversations in the middle of chaos too.
I am crazy most of the times. I listen to dance hits at midnight on my earphones and try some steps myself while sitting on my bed. I laugh at random instances or jokes when they come alive with a sudden surge of memory. There are many moments when I laugh uncontrollably all alone in my room. And there are times when I gape at the moon, simply marveling at it’s beauty.
I love making people laugh as I believe it resurrects the innocent child in each of them. Everyone is their true self when they laugh, loudly, uncontrollably without any inhibitions. I love the way a silent tear trickles down their face when they laugh madly.
I am confused too many times about too many things. A pile of books lie randomly on my bed as I love reading randomly from different books. It’s almost like trying a spoonful of different dishes one after another or having a lively conversation with many interesting friends together. Too many books spoil me and I absolutely love it.
Unlike books, I am too impatient with movies. In movies, I am forced to see things from the director’s perspective but in books, I can choose how I want to visualize something through my mind’s eye, relishing the experience. That is precisely, the beauty of reading for me.
I am a confused soul. The wires of my mind get tangled royally when I go shopping. It’s not that I am very miserly or something, I simply cannot choose anything without going through at least 5 samples of different products in that segment. The color, the texture, the price, the durability : parameters in my mind are countless and it results in a powerful emotion, confusion and a slight pinch of obsession.
But confusions are good as they foster possibilities. I always keep a confucheck on me, an imaginary device that makes me aware of how confused I am at the present moment. Strangely enough, it keeps me going and adds that slight tangy flavor of mysteriousness and adventurism in my life.
I am devoted to compassion, for me it is a way of life. I am not someone who donates a huge amount for charity and poses for a picture on page 3. I love doing my bit every day. Helping an elderly person get down a bus, giving a biscuit packet to a crying child on the street, feeding a stray dog, speaking politely, not being out rightly rude and judgmental and indulging in random acts that reinforce humanity around is compassion for me
I love to write. It brings in purpose to my being. It makes me happy. Every night, I close the doors of my room and write, madly, uncontrollably. If there is something that I could all my life without whining, it would be writing.
I love, laugh, live and wonder. An unexpected downpour makes me romantic, a delicious street food stall makes me delighted, and a happy reader makes me ecstatic.
I am no celebrity, no famous persona , I am a silent part of you that comes alive when you read what I write and gift me your precious smile. You carry me with you and our boundaries cease to exist and in some silent corner of your heart, a part of me stays.
I am Anonymous. I have chosen to be one. And that has given me wings to fly.
Image Source : flickr.com