Tuesday, January 27, 2015

Lonesome

She was desperately trying to fit in. Early morning she made tea for everyone in the room. She was slow but eager to help. With morning tea served, she began her rant about how unfair the life was, people suck, nobody gives a fuck.
Most of her conversation was a repeat of same story told differently, it went on non-stop, expecting an affirmation for every doubt. "You agree no?" she would say, waiting for a nod, before she continued.
Nobody in the room was listening. Everybody went about completing his or her task (folding clothes, preparing for their morning bath, shaving)
It was difficult to agree with her every logic (or illogical) statement.
I saw her, one evening, sitting all alone in the room, mumbling to self.
"Why didn't you go for a walk with your friends" I asked.
She didn't know. Her friends had not asked her and had sneaked out of the room without inviting her.
Initially, all women (a group of ten) who had come for the camp; met at every meal and even went out together but gradually, as the days passed, the groups were getting smaller (in two's, three's and four's). The chains became smaller and stronger. I saw her bouncing from one group to another, finding a loop, not really belonging to any.
On the day, I was not feeling too well; I had decided to be on my own, maybe read a book.
She was only too happy to find me in the room.
"What is your horoscope sign?" she asked
"Cancer" I said getting interested.
She began to talk about horoscope in great details, the same things that I had heard her talk during lunchtime with other set of friends. The character analysis went on for full thirty minutes, with me nodding my head every time she said, "Isn't it?"
My head was beginning to ache.
"Would you like to play cards?" I said trying to divert her attention.
She agreed and we sat to separate the pack of cards..(extract one pack from the mixed stack)
The conversation did not stop.
"Do you like Ms K?" she asked.
A fresh rant began about how Ms K was insensitive and selfish.
‘Concentrate, concentrate” the words somersaulted in my head, begging me not to be rude.
Lonely people need audience or were it that boring people seldom had audience.

Thursday, January 22, 2015

Those Lonely Nights

You would think
she withered in pain 
on those lonely nights
But freedom she relished
her space
Thoughts stretched
to crazy heights
uninterrupted
She travelled thousand miles
buried in books
living life in dream
fantasy
relishing each momen
t
in harmony 
complete with self
Blissful

You would think
she could die
of boredom
on those lonely nights

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