It was just another usual day, I got up earlier and took the seat near the window, with my elbows pressing against the desk. I was holding a pen in my hand, trying to jot down something. That's my favourite thing to do. Early morning musings are the best. There was a sparrow, who used to visit me at the same time every morning. She doesn't come anymore, I wondered what could've happened to her. Somewhere in this lonely apartment, she has become my family. I could feel the absence she's left behind. Is it even a day without listening to her chirps? I needed to fill the silence, I chose to play the music.
While 'The Wisp Sings' played, I let my heart wander with the notes the music carried. I couldn't point out the exact thing which bothered me. But I knew that this void I felt, was just eating me up. Then I wondered sitting alone if the girl from yesterday would visit the shop again. We met only once and the time we spent together wasn't even half an hour, but I felt like we could be good friends. I even asked her to come again. I wanted to write about her. Her clueless look was like the lost sparrow I meet every morning and her eyes searching for the meaning of life. Her voice was too weak to the strong vibe she had.
Thinking about just random things was exhausting, I went to the kitchen to cook for myself. Then I had to get ready for work. I walked towards somewhere, the irony was, it felt like I was going nowhere. The only time I feel alive is when I write something. I know that I am a hard worker. I had to go through thorough research before writing even a single line. Now, I have an idea in this field. Writing is not only about words, I realized how mechanic my thoughts were. I am a human with flesh and warmth after all.
My life... it was too grand to feel alive; too perfect to enjoy and celebrate. I have always been an extraordinary student, who was disciplined, obedient and respected elders; a kind-hearted young man who filled hearts with poetry. But I was clueless about what I filled myself with. Then I saw the evening sparrow in the street I walk to the office, with her hand being held by another sturdy hand. I pondered if the morning sparrow did the same; did she leave me for another hand?
I like noting down my thoughts in a paper rather than on software applications. I feel more human, looking at my handwriting. Someone was standing behind me, peeking at my diary. That's something I hate. I don't like people looking or staring at me when I write. It was an impulse to hide my words.
"Hahaha!" he laughed.
"Don't laugh, Madan."
"Cool! I didn't read anything."
"I know you wouldn't dare to." I elbowed him.
"Let's grab something."
"You haven't even started your work." I just reached my place.
"I know, it won't pain to have a cup of tea." he grabbed my hands and dragged me with him. "I know you love this idea. Now, c'mon! Don't act like you don't like it." yes, he was right. I liked that, but I was too lazy to go and get it. Thanks to him, I get a chance to drink a cup of tea, every morning and evening.
Unlike me, Madan was a cheerful person. I needed him to feel alive. And he hung out with me for whatever reason, I wasn't aware of. He talked about how he had spent all his salary on living expenses and he couldn't enjoy his life.
"Isn't it like you're spending all money to have fun and end up empty-handed to meet daily expenses?" I laughed.
He just laughed it off and asked me about my evening poetry shows. "It is, as usual, I just like doing it. I sometimes think of leaving the job and pursuing my writing as a job."
"Don't do that, try publishing a book while you're still on the job. If it gets a good response, you can think about leaving the job or do whatever." It made sense, I was being irrational. "Look, Ashmit! I know you're a great poet, but let us be practical about it."
"You are right! But don't you get frustrated working all day, sometimes? That's what I have been feeling these days."
He sipped on the tea and continued, "Everyone gets that, I can't deny that. But don't make decisions in a haste."
Then we talked about how the supervisor of our department tried to hit on that one newbie the other day. He was an asshole, who just talked shit about guys and no need to mention how sweet he acted in front of girls.
Then we joined the other colleagues and started our work for that day. I waited for the evening to arrive soon. And I was curious to know about that girl and the guy who held her hand.