Untitled1 December 25, 2008

I found a story I wrote way back in 10th I think. I like the style, and I find it comical how introvert-ish I was back then. Brings back some vivid memories and feelings. I still can’t deny that the human race is way too complicated and artificial for it’s own good.

Untitled1

As he gazed up into the sky, he contemplated. Life had been good to him. He had whatever he wanted, a secure job, a wife, a son, and an active social life. Though, he liked his socialite status, he felt happiest when he was alone, and gazing up into the sky. It was a beautiful sky, a nice light shade of blue with no sun, and a few large clouds. It was a dark sky, one ready to burst open with rain, and wash all of his troubles away.

The scenery around him was spectacular to say the least. The most spectacular aspect was that no one else was there to spoil his sprawling view of the bustling city below. He sat on a cliff, conscious of the drop, yet not fully concerned. There was a small windy road down the mountain, which was still clothed in its trees. The beauty brought so much clarity, and thought to his mind. There were no people here to clog his thoughts, and he could not see any people from this high up. From here, all he could see were ants pouring in and out of a decimated anthill. People moving here, and people moving there, but nobody sat and watched the mountain in all of it glory. The monsoon brought birds chirping, and squirrels jumping. Even they were hurrying about in the hustle bustle of their daily lives, but their hustle bustle was so much more graceful. They danced, and sang, but still got their work done. He wished he were a bird or a squirrel, or even an ant. But he realized that what he truly wished was that this beautiful scene remained in this mind, at least until he found something more beautiful. Most people were perfectly content to spend a small fortune to go to the Swiss and see the scenery there, leaving him happily contemplating about the sky.

One of the things he could never understand was how people loved the sun, yet hated to be out in it. Rain on the other hand was different; it was constantly changing in a thousand different variables. He laughed smugly to himself. What had he ever known about variables? He was a simple man, with a simple job and a simple life. Change had never harmed him, but why start now?

The lightning rent the clouds, sending forth a fury of rain. He quickly stood up, and ran to his two-wheeler. Ah, that smell. What a beautiful smell it was. He knocked himself into sanity. It was raining, and he would get wet. No one liked a man who couldn’t even take care of himself. He thought about his wife, and quickened his pace. She would send a fury of words louder and heavier than the thunder and rain that lashed about him if she saw him drenched.

Suddenly, he wished he had a car. A large car, with an English chauffeur, that would open the door for him, as he sat in it. Plush leather seats, and a Bose music system. Wouldn’t that be the life? Having everything done for you, as you sat and listened to whatever you wished.

The roar of thunder brought back memories of his wife when she was angry, which brought him back to reality. Climbing on to the motorbike, he started the engine and raced across the empty road. The city was not as far as it seemed from the high vantage point, and he was there quickly. Unfortunately, he wasn’t quick enough. It seemed the thumping rain had beaten him to it.

Soaked in fresh rain, he stood on his portico, praying for a miracle that would dry his shirt in the next 10 seconds. But, that was too improbable, so he prayed that his wife wasn’t home instead. Simplicity was always best, he thought. His thoughts were blown away by a fierce gale that toppled this scooter. Rushing to pick it up, he brought the antiquated piece of junk under the shed that covered his house, and waited.

It hit him all of a sudden. Why was he waiting? What difference would it make if he entered his house now or ten minutes from now?

I never could come up with a good enough name for it. Untitled1 has stuck itself in my head now