Figments of my Imagination.
I walked around the park, my usual ten laps I try and get in everyday. But today was different; I was tired, felt a little disoriented. I didn't feel like walking or jogging, which was strange. Because walking in the park refreshes me, it makes me feel good, gives me a small purpose. Timing the laps, calculating the difference in the timing between two days, the delight I feel when I know I have shaved off three seconds from yesterday's time -- all that makes me feel alive. But not today; I did not have that purpose or aim. I was tired. I wanted to sleep. I gave up on the walking after just four laps and went and parked myself on one of the uncomfortable metal benches, where I could neither relax nor sit at ease. It was 6:30pm, already almost dark since it's October, a little chilly, and the winter grey is just around the corner. I watched the other people in the park -- a group of teenagers playing a football game, the usual batch of older men sitting on the grass in the corner and playing cards or just ideally chattering. The group of men that plays volleyball was missing. A guy my age ran around the park, slowly and breathing painfully. Dusk had fallen, I had nothing to do. I didn't feel like walking. But I didn't feel like going back home as well, to the empty flat, which I would unlock, walk in, then make myself a cup of tea to ward off the headache. I didn't want to do that. As I sat on the dark green bench, Saki came to mind, a short story I had read in the Xth Standard, the lines never forgotten, somehow fresh in the memory.
"Dusk, to his mind, was the hour of the defeated. Men and women, who had fought and lost, who hid their fallen fortunes and dead hopes as far as possible from the scrutiny of the curious, came forth in this hour of gloaming, when their shabby clothes and bowed shoulders and unhappy eyes might pass unnoticed, or, at any rate, unrecognised. The wanderers in the dusk did not choose to have strange looks fasten on them, therefore they came out in this bat-fashion, taking their pleasure sadly in a pleasure-ground that had emptied of its rightful occupants."
I sat there and looked out. Slowly, the people started moving out. Those occupying the benches, too, got up and walked to their homes. The two stray dogs remained. And an old man sitting in the corner by himself. Maybe he was alone. Maybe he was homeless, had no place to go back. I still sat there, for another 35 minutes, until the droves of mosquitoes and incessant buzzing of the bugs started annoying me. Then I left as well, going home, wishing for sleep to come tonight. Last night was bad -- I kept imagining someone was in the house, just beside me. My imagination created shapes and apparitions of every object in the room, on the ceiling. Around 2, I woke up to switch on all the lights in the flat. I kept the television on loud, Ten Action on, watching a repeat match from the Championship. I was hungry, but I was too scared to step out of the room again and into the kitchen. I couldn't put my head down on the pillow and find some rest. I got no sleep in the train on Sunday night as well.
The nightmares are back.
Song of the Day: Karma Police (Radiohead)
"Dusk, to his mind, was the hour of the defeated. Men and women, who had fought and lost, who hid their fallen fortunes and dead hopes as far as possible from the scrutiny of the curious, came forth in this hour of gloaming, when their shabby clothes and bowed shoulders and unhappy eyes might pass unnoticed, or, at any rate, unrecognised. The wanderers in the dusk did not choose to have strange looks fasten on them, therefore they came out in this bat-fashion, taking their pleasure sadly in a pleasure-ground that had emptied of its rightful occupants."
I sat there and looked out. Slowly, the people started moving out. Those occupying the benches, too, got up and walked to their homes. The two stray dogs remained. And an old man sitting in the corner by himself. Maybe he was alone. Maybe he was homeless, had no place to go back. I still sat there, for another 35 minutes, until the droves of mosquitoes and incessant buzzing of the bugs started annoying me. Then I left as well, going home, wishing for sleep to come tonight. Last night was bad -- I kept imagining someone was in the house, just beside me. My imagination created shapes and apparitions of every object in the room, on the ceiling. Around 2, I woke up to switch on all the lights in the flat. I kept the television on loud, Ten Action on, watching a repeat match from the Championship. I was hungry, but I was too scared to step out of the room again and into the kitchen. I couldn't put my head down on the pillow and find some rest. I got no sleep in the train on Sunday night as well.
The nightmares are back.
Song of the Day: Karma Police (Radiohead)
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