Turmoils

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I believe it’d be fair to say that this has been long in the making (and remains unfinished). Although I’d planned an escape to the local coffee shop to sit and type this out, I chose the warm cozy comforts of my decently sized bed instead.

Don’t fret, I am not going to write about how bizarre and obnoxious the previous year has been. Considering we aren’t particularly close to a definite solution to a massive global set-back, I do not wanting to be jumping the gun on that one. Although our pains and losses might seem collective, I am certain a handful of us were better off than many others who were failed by governments, corporates and social and public institutions alike. I would like to, however, issue a PSA and remind whoever is reading this to take care, to continue wearing a mask and to practice social distancing as if their favorite musician’s life depended on it.

What constitutes this outpour is a conundrum which, in retrospect, probably lasted almost a fortnight. Although I had wished to turn to pen and paper sooner to help clear my mind (as always), the nebulous and grey nature of my matters had me stranded and forlorn for days. I described my state of mind a couple of days ago to a friend as such,

Imagine you’re out in the open, atop a hill, where the sky is limitless and blue and the air is cool and welcoming. You see countless colorful kites in the day slicing across the white clouds and as the sun sets, a dim glow begins to creep in and you spot countless fireflies instead, dancing and shimmering. You run around helter-skelter, one corner to another, hoping to catch one fallen kite or capture one lonely firefly in your jar but you fail miserably, and repeatedly, with nobody around to offer assistance of any kind.

Anybody would eventually tire out and give in, right? Simply rest themselves on the ground, shut their eyes and let the myriad win? Well maybe, but that is not what transpired on my end. I continued to let my head see blurry and my heart ache at a constant. I remained incomprehensible and incoherent to my own self for days at a stretch. I let it all turn into a hum at the back of my head; unavoidable but intentional. It kept me functional but also aptly tuned out from the rest of the world.

I felt like I had been left alone at a train station I did not remember being dropped off to, to board a train whose destination I did not know. I did not know the running times; I did not know if I needed to buy a ticket or if one would be purchased for me. And I most certainly did not know if I had it in me to make the journey until the last stop on the chart. The 2020 Kaufman film, I’m Thinking of Ending Things, seemed to make questionable sense at times. Trains continued to run fast and loud on the tracks across from me, and the ones which halted only did so for a minute. So brief were those lucid moments, it is as if they never actually happened. But I endured, waiting patiently for my train to pull in and brake at my feet.

Alas, that hour did arrive, and I wasted not a second to jump in and find my seat. I was relieved to rest my feet and exhaled purposefully. Maybe it was the passage of time, freeing and abstract in all its shapes and forms, but I wasn’t concerned anymore where this peregrination would take me. I would be ready to alight when time would be right, and so I did.

It must be gravely evident now that I in no way am equipped to share tales from this recent personal adventure vividly or fondly. I have no memories. I recollect no independent emotion or hunch. I draw up a blank each time I think too hard about it. However, what does remain are snippets, and flashbacks, and excerpts from conversations with dear friends who offered their time and attention to my avowedly vague and unestablished trains of thoughts. I concluded then that I’d turn this literary undertaking equivalent to sharing photographs from an unplanned solo trip. The absence of a travel companion or a steady internet connection which would let you constantly upload photographs on social media accounts never deterred anyone from regaling and sharing stories of their quests, right? So here goes nothing, of what will infinitely prosper and what has for forever perished.