Mute.

MUTE.

1. I feel like I do not belong. To the place, to the mud, to the people, to the house or to the air around. A sense of being a misfit constantly claws at me. A misfit in this world. One end of the string tied to this place while the other hopelessly flailing around. I feel myself in a conundrum. Do people understand me or do they put forth a pretense? Do they know who I am or are they yet again trapped in the reflections that they have perceived of me? Do I know them well enough or is this a rewind of something that’s already happened before? Snap. Nope, no Marvel theories working out here. Maybe, it’s a reverie. Nope, still not out of it.

2. I read a book. I skim through the pages. One, two, three, so many. The plot, seems interesting enough. My attention, to the character. I read yet again. I try to find a tinge of myself in the character. Or vice versa. Something relatable? Not yet. I find metaphors. I scour through them all. Suffice it to say that, I feel slightly content with the analogy I draw to myself being a metaphor. Cliched, I suppose yes.  

3. I walk past a garden. I do a double take. I trail back to the entrance. A brick lined path welcoming me. I trudge through it. A breeze rushing in to greet me, a few birds chirping, probably gossiping about my arrival. I take it all in. A fragrance clouds my senses, a quiet aura holds me in its embrace. I push away. The birds chatter yet again. The touch-me-not withdraws. I still do not feel a sense of belonging. A perpetual feeling of calm isn’t what I can relate to.

4. I now see an apartment. I walk into a flat. Don’t ask me how I know it’s yours. I just do. I look into your eyes. You tell me you are my lover. I search in those hazel orbs, a place where I reside. Maybe it’s in this lover of mine, I presume. To a certain extent, I feel a something I cannot quite name reigning over the range of my feelings. A few sweet words we exchange and then it’s back to square one. I feel restless. Question after question pestering me no end. I leave your apartment leaving you bewildered. I keep walking, I know where.

5. I find a camera. I look through it. A landscape of my body. A portrait of my thoughts. A cluttered mess. Like a bird’s haphazard nest. Perched on top a tree the others can only see but something not within their reach. A little aloof yet a dwelling to a tiny family. I feel connected, not entirely but I think I’m getting there. I fidget with the modes. Monochrome? A little too dull. Fitting it auto, nah doesn’t look like it’s working out for me. I fidget a little more. Turning the knobs back and forth. I end up a teeny bit frustrated. I leave.

6. I walk into a house. They call it my house. The walls are painted with fading memories, the floor is marbled with reflections of a few other people and me. I fail to draw a line to where they lead me to. Confused. I find a remote. A button looks like it’s just calling me to press it. A ruckus in my mind. I press it. MUTE. Too many people talking and suddenly it’s a quiet place. A sudden static hum takes over. Blocking my ears from hearing anything else. My vision blurs and the next thing I know is I’m in another place where I know I live. I live. Yes, I live here. And now is when I get the answer to my question: What if there was another me in a dimension where I knew I belonged?

 

Introspection in progress.

Picture Courtesy: Pinterest.

Head to a mirror. Now. Seriously, right now. Too lazy to move? Okay then, picture this. A silver glass mirror now has a face staring right back at you. It’s you or is it though? You haven’t ever seen yourself with your own eyes right? You’ve seen yourself through reflections and pictures. Yet you recognize yourself through this silver glass object. Nice. Peek a little further. Straight into the eyes. Two coloured lagoons of dreams. And a mirage of hope haplessly floating in it. The face seems distant, you’re right in front of it, yet it seems distant. There are a few freckles on that face, some concealed, some out in the open. There’s a dimple lurking out there. Wait one? No, two. Okay, maybe none too. A stray strand of hair making its way to your cheek. You whisk it away. Why is it that your own face feels unfamiliar to you now? Stare a little harder. What are you even staring at? It’s all pixelated now. The deeper you peer into, the blearier it gets. Wait. I have a question. Are you focusing on the unfocused or are you unfocusing the focus?

Forget the face. Stand there a while longer. Read the mind now. A slight tremor wreaking havoc in your mind. A whirlpool of unspoken thoughts. Ambushed now that you’re able to figure your own thoughts out. It’s like you are stepping on the floor barefoot on a scorching hot afternoon. Wildly skipping here and there, tiptoe-ing and prancing around. Your thoughts they are. The longer you try to read them, the more they skip around. It’s like someone’s playing a game of Jenga with your mind. While you’re trying your best to separate one thought from the messy rack there, there’s something screwing up the balance. Now, now, now. Is it screwing up the balance or is it maintaining it, now that you’ve managed to pin point that unsteady thought? Think, think. Another new stack, another new dimension of thoughts.

Maybe I had been wrong all along.

Wrapped in the layers of turmoil,

Rolling in the sheets of thoughts so strong,

I woke up to the realization that

Maybe I had been wrong all along.

Running on the mills of prejudice,

Resonating with the voices around,

Trudging down the lanes of disagreement,

I felt myself shut down.

Everything went black,

Maybe that’s why I saw the light,

Clear the fog and cutting through,

Hitting me with all its might.

All this while we ran,

Along the tracks that people set,

Trying our best to appease them,

All the terms and conditions met.

But indeed it is the harsh truth,

That no matter how much we try,

Our efforts will never suffice

Their expectations from us sky high.

We mold, we shape ourselves,

Assuming we may fall in the crowd,

Although we fail to realise,

It’s our individuality that cries out loud.

Maybe I had been wrong all along,

Maybe I took off on the wrong track,

Now it was time to voice myself

Before it all faded back to black.

I had to stand for myself,

To make my presence known,

And not hide in the shadows of the horde,

Even if it meant I had to walk alone.