[Free writing: Knots]

 My brain is in knots.

I imagine my brain to be made wholly of knots - some might even say the imagery is close to the actual gyri and sulci, but a girl is trying to romanticise her twisted, abundant thoughts here - so let her be.

My brain. Made of knots - old and new. In a continuous tussle. Throbbing. Some knots easing easily, some gradually, some cementing stronger by the moment - these are dangerous. They're heavy, sharp, draw blood. They reside at the back of my head. Perennially - always there. Some strangling the whole mass of the mess my brain is. Some with loose ends, some charred.

Brain. Knots. Fried.

Brain. Knots. Untangle. I tried.

It is a full time job - you know? To pick on an end and try to unwind. Set it straight. The risk of complicating the knots further exists, so does running into ones you thought didn't exist in the first place. 

But on some days, when you take a break from all the winding and unwinding - something clicks, something shifts, all the pieces of the puzzle fall together in place and some knot somewhere straightens, seemingly on its own. It is a nice feeling. That momentary calm that washes over you is nice. 

I had a little moment today.

[ Free writing: Comfort, or the lack of it]

Comfort - the word, the feeling - I think about it often. I fail to find it. Like the tongue goes back again and again to where the recently lost tooth was, I find myself going back to the word, the idea, the feeling, again and again.

I want to capture exactly what the opposite of comfort is, to put down, to mould and set in words. I carry it wherever I go. It does seem heavy.

Disease, discomfort, unease, weakness - they simply don't cut it. I refuse to believe that something that has coiled around me to the point of suffocation could be summed up in one small word. That something that made my God disappear, become distant, unresponsive, cold could amount to so little. That something that intrudes my every waking hour could take up only this miniscule a space.

It is heavy to carry. It sits right at my prefrontal cortex. It fogs all my senses. I barely feel human.

It feels like the life-flow ebbing, a wave that retreated before it could reach me. Like being too tired to fall asleep. Like days merging into one. Like going in circles and reaching nowhere. Like always departing, always bidding farewell. Like running towards horizon for the sunrise that never will be. Like being stripped of the warmth that sustains. Like sharp words being swallowed. A listless limbo. Learned helplessness. A hamster wheel.

Like always on the verge, always with the urge to keep pouring out the pain but it fails to recede.

What is the word for it? 

Where is the way out?

[ Free writing : Fear ]

 I confront it as I write.

I am guided by it, day in and out. They say acknowledging a problem is the first step towards a solution. (They was me in my positive psychology classes).

But I am taking the first step. I am collecting fear from all my pores, it's dwelling in my chest, I feel a little out of breath, but I am trying. It won't be all drained out in one go, I know, but I am trying.

Drawing shaky breaths but I let a step fall after a step, a word after a word.

Am I drawing near or going far? 

I don't know, but I am trying.

Gulping down tears, trembling fingers as I write. But I am trying.

Head is throbbing, uneasily heavy, flanks going cold and tingly. But I am trying. 

I'll get to the point, I swear, before my brain exhausts itself with all I want to make sense of and shuts itself out. Please be patient with me, I am trying.

The truth is, I am scared, very. Of nothing in particular, of everything. Fear manages to catch me off guard, in the meanest of ways. I wasn't afraid of the dark, I am tricked by its shadows now. It creeps up and catches up with me in my sleep, in my nightmares. Where do I go from there? There's nowhere to hide, no respite, no refuge.

But I am trying.

You don't expect me to lay bare all my fears, do you? I am just taking the first step. I won't dump that on you. Yet. We barely know each other and I am a stranger to myself. And honestly, I can't even name all of them, Yet. 

But I am trying. 

To be brave, move up, move past, make peace, assimilate.

I am trying.

[ Free writing ]

 Once upon a time, I still dreamt.

Hoped with wide eyed wonder, of good things, better things. Saved the said dreams in a small corner of my being, pressed in the leaves of memory, stacked neatly - within my reach, to be retrieved at leisure, to be cherished, doted over.

I dreamt of being on my own. As I liked to call it "ek insaan ki chhoti si grihasti". I dreamt of a place of my own, that was flooded with sunlight every morning. There were to be no dull grey days. It was a dream, I didn't account for winters. All I had to care about was me and my pet plant in the balcony - I didn't account for loneliness either. That the plant might need company. I was to feed it left over tea leaves from my morning chai. I didn't account for what plant it would be and if it needed acidic soil. It was a dream.

The balcony had the view of the city. It's weird because I'm not really fond of all the concrete that houses cities. I had other dreams where I lived in the hills. I leave those for another day. The view of the city came with crisp morning air. I failed to account for pollution. It was a dream.

With my morning tea, my pet plant, the crisp morning air - I felt enough. Throw in a bean bag too maybe, I wouldn't want to stand for that long. It was a dream, it was all that mattered.

I didn't account for how my then (and current) broke self would keep a place of her own in a city, if I would find pockets of leisure time to marvel at the view, if I wouldn't be caught up in the 9 to 5 drudgery. I didn't account for my loneliness, how I sometimes doubt that I might be afraid of empty spaces and that is probably why I keep my surroundings a little messed up, a little unorganised and how almost every day the first thing I do, half conscious, when I wake up is to reach for my phone and look for signs that I'm still needed.

It was a dream.

Sound of Silence (2)

(In case you missed part one, you can read it here)

Part 2

Dear diary,

It was a day like any other. Until it was not. 

I did my usual walk of drudgery from my department to the bus at the end of the work day. It didn't help that the queue to mark attendance was long and everyone seemed to want to be the first one to do so. Some of them seemed too eager, I let some of them break the queue and punch out attendance before me. It will be a day when I won't put others before me, it's not today though. Today I'll be late because I'm just built like that.

No ragrets? No ragrets!

I make it to my bus just in time. I trust the driver - we're always last to leave. Serves me well, I'm usually the last one to board.

I wasn't hoping for anything out of the mundane, the monotonous...

But then - there was her.

A new face. She didn't take this bus before. But I think I did see her at the evaluation centre sometime. She could totally pass as a student if it were not for the orange tag of the ID card.

She looks totally out of it - fidgety, as if she couldn't wait to be done with all of this!

The only empty seat in the bus right now is beside her and I make my way up to it. I point to her bag that was occupying the seat, she moves it to her lap swiftly. I make myself comfortable in the seat - as comfortable one could make oneself in really uncomfortable seats that would give you backache at the end of the day and next to a stranger who didn't seem very fond of company.

The bus started. She looked out of the window throughout the commute, smiling delicately at times, at memories best known to her.

The silence remained uninterrupted. Not that it could have been otherwise.

Yours,

V

**

Dear diary,

I guess she's here to stay. She takes this bus nowadays. I see her everyday.

I don't know if she knows that but she has a very transparent face - don't get me wrong - I mean that her face is very easy to read. It's all there. An open book. The exhaustion, the annoyance, the hesitation with people around - it's all there. But sometimes she smiles at people, in recognition. Sometimes she smiles, lost in thought. Sometimes it feels like she's about to chuckle- headphones in her ears- at a song. It's unusual, but who am I to say anything!

I sit next to her often. I hope she doesn't think it to be rude that I haven't even said a word so far…

Because I couldn't, even if I wanted to…

Yours,

V

**

Dear diary,

Happy birthday to me!

What a way to begin my birthday though! I'm late for work! I miss my bus!

I take an auto to reach a later stop. I trust the driver - I'll catch the bus!

And I do.

Her. 

I catch her looking at me as I board the bus. And I might be hallucinating because of all the rush that I'm going through as I caught the bus last minute but…. 

I think she smiled at me! 

Cute.

Did she? Did she? What am I - a school going teen who's happy his crush smiled at him?

WAIT DID I JUST SAY CRUSH????

I need to lie down.

I think it's enough for the day.

Yours,

V

**

Dear diary,

My God it was close. I almost missed my bus this evening! This job is really draining the life out of me. 

Exhausted.

Yours,

V

**

Dear diary,

It was a usual day. Until it was not.

I walked up to the vacant seat next to her. She was holding her bag close to her already. She seemed tired - more so than usual. I sat down. No biggie. 

The bus started moving. I think she dozed off soon after. Poor kid.

Ummm… 

Well. Okay. No. Okay. No.

If the harsh stop at the traffic signal hadn't woken her up - her head would've been on my shoulder I think. She was really flustered, she literally turned to her side, towards the window after that.

I'm evil for laughing at this but I think it was funny. And cute. And funny!

I say as if I wasn't flustered in equal measure * face palm *

Not bad :'D

Yours,

V

**

Dear diary,

BAD DAY. JUST BAD. BAD.

Heaven opened its floodgates today. As if it wasn't cold enough already. 

And the bus driver - I trust him - to make the situation worse.

And he did.

I waited for about an hour, standing in the rain. I'll be late today, I'll definitely have my day's pay cut.

But I finally spotted the ugly yellow as I was having second thoughts about going to work today.

I guess everyone on board was having a bad day.

Including her…

She and window seats are like a match made in heaven, bound together by Fevicol - I swear! But today she was sitting on an alley side seat. Her big bag in her lap, held close. Forehead creased. But it also looked like she'll cry any moment now. 

I made my way to the back of the bus.

I hope she's okay….

Yours,

V

**

Dear diary,

She looked…. different this morning...

Lip colour darker, circles under the eyes darker max. It all pops out because she's pale.

The unfazed exterior that she tries to maintain. It's a sham though, I don't think anybody buys it. It's sad too. I know how students could be with new professors. She'll learn gradually, if she already hasn't, to stand her ground.

Also….

I think she looks beautiful.

OKAY ENOUGH FOR TODAY GOOD NIGHT ABORT MISSION I SAID GOOD NIGHT.

Yours,

V

**

Dear diary,

She has befriended someone, looks more like someone has befriended her. Her face, I swear, her face gives everything away! Not her fake smiling and nodding through the conversation!

Also, with this new development, went my chance to sit next to her.

It's not like I could've talked to her anyway but….

I miss the shared silence.

Yours,

V

**

Dear diary,

Okay today seems to be my lucky day!

I got to sit next to her, the friend probably took a day off.

I - 

I also heard her hum to herself… since she had earphones on, she probably didn't realise that it was loud enough...

She has a sweet voice…

I -

OKAY GOOD NIGHT ABORT MISSION I SAID GOOD NIGHT BYE

WHOSE EVEN!

V

**

Dear diary,

It's nobody's lucky day.

Covid is here and spreading and it probably means that the university will be shutting down.

So much uncertainty!

Yours,

V

**

Dear diary,

So no more going to university from now on - till God knows when! 

Who could've thought this was to be the last time I boarded that bus…..

Last time I saw her….

Unexpected goodbye! 

Strange - I know she's nothing like me and yet…

She seemed just like me.

Yours

V

*

Sound of Silence

 Part 1

* Google searches “Days till 20 April 2020” *

“Can’t wait to be done with this place for good” I sigh, as I plop into a seat.  I’m taking this ugly yellow bus from today. I really miss the beautiful lemon yellow bus that I used to take before this one. It was on time on 99% of days, unlike this one, which is showing no signs of motion so far.

1715 hours. All the other buses in the queue have started their engines, while ours stands still, driver less. I’ve begun to doubt if this is actually the correct bus.

* Looks around for signs. Spots the name of my destination. *

“Okay this IS the one”

I sink into my seat further. Thankfully, the driver arrives.

“Okayyy I‘ll get to go home today woohoo” – I say mockingly. To my own self. Nobody laughs. Not even me.

The students and faculty that were killing time - chatting, breathing in the air, waiting outside – seemingly familiar with the ways of this bus - make their way in.

And then – there was him.

Last to board. He looked like a deer caught in the headlights.

He walked upto my seat, the one next to me being occupied only by my very chonky bag. He seemed hesitant when he pointed to it. I pulled my bag into my lap, vacating the seat. He sat there without uttering a word, the silence uninterrupted throughout the commute.

Not that I would have liked it otherwise.

**

I see him every working day now.

He often makes his way up to my seat. Same gesture. Same routine that follows. I wonder if I should strike up a conversation. Or if I should at least smile in recognition.

But we keep to ourselves.

A common destination. Same commute. Different starting points. We just happened to cross paths. We sit there, next to each other but very much absorbed in our own little worlds. Sharing silence.

Pretty much like life, isn’t it?

**

He doesn’t board the bus today.

Strange given that he hasn’t missed a day before.

Maybe he is taking the day off. I should really stop overthinking.

**

Update: He did board the bus, but from a different stop. He looks different. That’s a really bright jacket he is wearing.  And he has gotten a haircut.

Cute.

The seat beside me is taken. He makes way to the back of the bus.

Anyway I had shifted my focus, I was looking out of the window, to not seem too pleased to see him.

**

1715 hours. He hasn’t turned up. I do remember him boarding the bus in the morning though.

All other buses have left.

Even our bus is about to leave.

Do I tell the driver to wait?

(AND WAIT FOR WHO?? In case the driver asks?? I don’t even know his name. Or department, for that matter.)

The bus starts to move.

Oh boy.

I sink into my seat.

Suddenly it feels like someone/ something hit the side of the bus.

“Please stop, someone wants to board the bus” said one of the professors to the driver.

It was him. Finally made it. Out of breath.

He walked to the back of the bus.

I felt like I disappointed a stranger, if that was even possible.

**

It was an unusually exhausting day. I barely dragged myself to the bus. I leaned back in the seat. The usual, mechanical noise of the bus reduced to a soft murmur, a lullaby even. My eyes fighting a losing battle against sleep. It was only a matter of time before I drifted off completely.

Only to wake up with one of the jolts of the moving bus.

And also, the realisation -

It was him. In the seat next to me. 

But then it also dawned upon me -

In my sleep, I had leaned towards him. 

I straightened up, flustered, wanting to get out of that situation as soon as possible. I didn't even dare to look at him to gauge his reaction.

**

Winter. Rains. Winter rains. I hate them.

But what is happening right now has me cross. Absolutely pissed. Frazzled even before the work day has begun.

It's winter. It's raining. Morning but it's still dark as I make my way to the bus stop.

As usual I reach the bus stop on time. As usual, the bus is nowhere to be seen. I stand in the pouring rain, I wait. I'm cold and tired and angry. 10 minutes pass. 15 minutes pass. 20 minutes pass. A fellow bus boarder from my stop, who happened to reach there by car, offers me to sit in the car while we wait for the bus.

My feet, my socks, my shoes were soaking wet and I hesitated to accept her offer at first but gave in. 40 minutes passed. I wanted nothing but to go back home. But just then - the bus arrived. I was fuming. More so when I noticed that the window seats were wet because of the rain. I always go for window seats. Not today though. I held on to my big chonky bag and wished for the day to get over soon. But it was only the beginning. I spent my time sulking, sitting on the alley side seat.

He boarded the bus from his stop. He must've waited all this while in the rain too.

But today, I was way too bitter to be cheered up by his presence. 

Needless to say, I reached my destination late. I punched my attendance after the head of my department, just in time, just before I could've earned myself a pay cut. It was the HoD pointing out that I was late that stung me the most.

One of the worst work days, ever.

**

I made friends with the fellow bus boarder from my stop. Actually, she made friends with me. Now she sat on the seat next to me on all days. She was the talkative kind. She loved to talk, leaving little scope at times for me to even chip in. I'm trying to put this politely when I say this because I really don't enjoy talking much in the morning. I need my buffer time to wake up properly and that only happened by the time I began the work day - at 9AM everyday. I loved keeping all the time before that for my own self, for my own thoughts.

I missed the silence.

**

The masks are on. Covid has arrived. The masks clearly don't stop people from talking. The bus is abuzz with speculations of the university shutting down and the teaching and learning to go online. 

I did want my time with the University to end soon, but not like this.

I had the whole last day at University planned out and the Universe was refusing to cooperate.

**

The teaching and learning was shifted online. We were still working from the University though. The buses were now relatively empty. We were practicing social distancing - as best it could be practiced in a closed bus.

I still saw him everyday.

**

That fine evening, the inevitable happened. Work from home was to become the new normal, it was announced.

Strange, till earlier that day I had no idea that it will be the last time I get on that bus, last time I listen to the very Punjabi songs that driver bhaiya played….

...the last time I see him.

An unexpected, unsaid goodbye.

It was nice to share silence with a stranger. 

He seemed just like me.

[To be continued…..]