Bookmark #911

It is a muggy day. I woke up in sweats, and at first, I thought something was wrong with me, that I had gotten sick, or worse, I was in love, but then I peeked out the gap between the curtains and realised it was just the sun. Then, I noticed a squirrel desperately clinging to the pipes, and the excitement of a tolerable rodent on the balcony got me out of bed. Were it a rat, I would have flung the door open and driven it away, but since it was a squirrel, I kept watching it till it left. It is funny how our response to things is dictated by their call to aesthetics. Then, I made some coffee; the sun had warmed the hall like an oven.

When I sat to write, I realised it would be a comfortable day despite the list of tasks, which was long and sinuous, like the most challenging mountain roads, not that I would know much about it. I have only driven in training, and until I get a car, the learning seems moot. But I have always been one to learn things without use for them. Rarely do I get an opportunity to share what I know about art or sociology, or all the economics I have read to tickle my curiosity, and the plethora of other disciplines I have dipped my finger like a mesmerised child who cannot resist the allure of an open jar—of jam, of honey, of paint. But it does inform my life, all that learning, I suppose. I read like reading was done before it was done for something.

One could say my life lacks purpose. Like the squirrel who happened to wander onto the balcony, I, too, tend to wander to and from people, leaving pieces of my heart like a forgetful rodent would leave its stash. I wander from jobs and lives I have made for myself, not because I am severely unhappy, barring a few instances, which is natural; I do this because it is in my nature. Just as a squirrel’s nature is to be accepted in the world of people, and a rat’s purpose is to be rushed out of sight, I suppose this is how I present to other people. I believe they can sense the impermanence of my heart before I do; as soon as I walk into the room, they know I am not one to stay.

This would explain everything. It is funny how our response to other people is dictated by how they make us feel.

// if you want to support this walk to nowhere, you can pitch in here