It's 02:30 am, I am sitting in my room, tired after a happy day of work. The room's silent with this Abida Parveen song playing in my computer. The cool breeze coming from the balcony, is making the ambiance quiet and peaceful.
I want chai and unfortunately there's none. This urge to have chai is driving me more inquisitive, more curious, may be more crazy. I am in this crumpled cloud of imagination, which I am enjoying. I am sleepy and 'comfortably' tired, which takes me in that cloud to these questions which are not mine, they are everyone's. I thought I should share them.
When I get into these chai clouds, I see that we're all surrounded by so many smiles, so many joys, so many secrets which we hide and share throughout the day. These are rays which keep hitting our heads every hour. We choose to show interest in some, and choose to ignore some. Sometimes, we don't even realise and these 'joys' become more important than our existence. We don't know how.
Sometimes, we sit in a conversation quietly trying to make out what is actually the 'cause' of the conversation! We build up answers to questions which were never important. We keep on writing dialogues which take the script no where. We specialise in complicating silly things. If we look around and analyse, the major political disputes are those silly 'dialogues'!
We compete, we win, or we lose...We compete harder. But in the process we forget about the big question: "Did I LEARN?" It's as simple as that.
This fresh late night breeze from the balcony brings me back to the room from the chai cloud. Though I end up reading a thousand books on the existence of God, but I read nothing about the existence of ME! The breeze is nice and soothing. May be, these questions have no answers. Or I think the breeze is the answer to all such questions. Nice and soothing. It doesn't say anything, but still conveys everything.
I look around and there's no replacement for chai. Funny liquid! I write stories, I give birth to characters, but I am sure someone's writing my story too. So, this is an interesting case of many narratives within a narrative. Many lives in one life, or may be just many characters within one character.
The simple joys of life are right there, sometimes we plainly ignore them in the process of being 'cool'. What will the neighbour say, what will the colleague say, what will the seniors think... If there is so much thought behind a joy, then it isn't a joy anymore. Joys stay in clouds, clouds which you make. Clouds which take you to a position where there is this sensation of that lovely breeze (pretty much like the one in my balcony).
Joy has no languages, no conditions, no boundaries. It only has smiles, that too honest ones...SIMPLE ones.
It's 02:55 am, I am tired after a happy day. There's no chai but the chai clouds are making me think more... Abida Parveen is too good. It's late. Time to sleep. The joy diaries continue...