Mind’s indeed a mess. It had always been. You did not need scriptures to figure out its maze, but an insight into your own possession testifies it.
It was only in the lazy afternoon, mangoes from the garden in hand, I and grandpa were having a prolonged conversation on how Satyen Bose had fallen asleep and yet was alert to a conference in the Calcutta Science College. Talks of great personnels, from the aforementioned HOD Physics, Calcutta University, who was originally a Mathematics Master’s to the origination of the Italian ‘Bata’ in West Bengal to Chris Gardener’s Ship Building Company to how Babur had exclaimed at the wonders of the Rani Mahal of Gwalior Fort to the failure of the Hydron Collider to rebel against Hawking’s acceptance of the existence of God, it was the most cherishing afternoon with my favourite man.
My evening had been well planned already. A Double Chicken Kabab roll from ‘Roll n Tandoor’s’, a kilometre off me. The enormous thunders and the threaten of a downpour worked little to break through my ambition and as dusk overtook the sky, there I sat, joined by a dozen strangers, at the foot of the Vidyasagar Flyover, a beautiful paper wrapped manifestation of my thoughts in hand, ready for uninterrupted consumption! It was uneventful of course, life in a metropolitan rarely involves interactions. Soon a call from home alerting, “It’s about to rain,” got me moving.
Summer remains incomplete without thirst, and so was I..maybe the chicken made me so. The 20 change in hand soon got replaced by a brown choco bar. Licking and adding up to its shine, my old buddy Ed Sheeran over the earphones, I made my way, proud of the gift of my legs as the cars stood still, hanking at each other! And when it was about to get over and all I could taste was the old wood of the stick, I had to yearn for a bin. I looked around, and felt familiar. Hey, I know this lane!
Religion had never made me think. Yet, the logicless trust for things you could not see, which none of your sense organs could not approve to be present, had always made me keenly respectful for this genre.
It was the old Temple Road. Grandpa had often dragged me along it, more to join up with his retired group than to actually force Her blessings down my throat. And today, I felt a longing towards it. I started walking in. What about my aethist’s reputation? And I walked out. Out came my earphones and in went another attempt and soon I was at the temple’s courtyard.
My eyes met Her’s. And in seconds life seemed so messed up. For no reason, my seek for solitude, had a frame. Flashbacks reigned my brain. Seens from days, college, nights, school, everything, everything seemed so messed up. From the proud-of-myself guy, I wanted to cry out for help right there. I don’t know, I actually cant frame what to write. I have never been so messed before. It was like being lost in a maze, with each way out having its own vices. A turn to one of them and the last vice seemed easier. It felt as if at that point, I had no idea what to do next. And then I joined hands. Not for help, not for asking, maybe I was too proud for that stuff. Rather respect for this non-versatile field filled me up and to my surprise, I found myself praying. I had always remembered asking the welfare for all, if at all that made sense, whenever grandmother had asked me to pray before the marble statuette which was our Protector. But today, I still have nothing to explain why, I was asking a way out. A way out of this crazy weird maze without having anything to pay. And I wish it was answered.