He sits quietly, gazing into the distance at nothing in particular. Motionless. His laptop in the background is playing a Ghulam Ali ghazal. But it doesn't matter to him. He isn't listening. He probably wouldn't respond if someone called him by his first name. The name he was given at birth. Very soon, that day will be a 25 year old memory. When he was brought into this world and recognized as a part of it. When he began his relationship with that strange concoction of time and space. Of people and things. Of ideas and beliefs. This world.
Its been a long journey, these 25 years. 24 and a half, to be precise. But today isn't the day to worry about petty details. A few days here and there. "Look at the big picture", I tell myself, "..as you have always been taught to look at things." So yeah, 25 years it has been. 25 years of a roller-coaster ride. Some ups, some downs, and somehow, its difficult to tell which ones have been more. There's never been enough time to count and keep track. Like one of those childhood trips in the really fast long distance trains that seem to travel for ages and ages, its kept going on and on. And just when you were starting to believe that it would never stop, it suddenly has. And no, its not a station, nor does it seem to be a crossing. Its just this wierd signal that has played musical chairs and said - "Oh! You're out!". No rhyme or reason. Happens to every train every once in a while. Why shouldn't it happen to you. So, while trains on the neighbouring tracks seem to happily amble about, you sit there waiting for the signal to turn green. You look out the window and see the grin on the faces of the children passing you by. You grow a little more impatient with every passing train, every passing grin. Thats exactly how I feel right now. Stopped by a naughty, maybe even sadistic, signal.
The song has changed. Its playing Boulevard of Broken Dreams. Thats probably the kind of expression that hes wearing right now. Or maybe it could have been Tanhayee. Its the same peculiar one hes been wearing for a few days now. Its hard to tell what it means but it definitely isn't a happy one. Hes been reacting differently to things. As though it wasnt him at all. As though he couldn't tell the difference. Or maybe, he doesn't want to.
Its wierd when you're stopped this way. Not knowing why you've been stopped. Not knowing when you'll be allowed to move again. Its like you're suspended in mid-air, like one of those Harry Potter immobility charms. You wait for when someone will come and say your name for you to be freed. Its at times like these that you feel at a loss of words to describe the feeling. Its not uncertainty. Everything around you is certain. Oversimplistically certain. The signal turns green, and you're free to go. But its indefinite. Certain, but indefinite. Like....like... Or maybe, theres probably quite nothing as certain and as indefinite as a train waiting for a signal to turn green. As the thousands of horsepower of the engine roar but idle, waiting maybe acquires a surreal feeling. Maybe this is the feeling that people call 'experiencing God'. I have never experienced God. I think I even doubt the existence of a God. I've called myself an atheist for as far as I can remember. But doubting should make me an agnostic, shouldn't it. Well, hardly matters. I just know I'm immune to the exhortation called God. I think I'll just settle for the unnamed feeling. Like a stopped train.
