In-between the Words and Pause

The irrepressible wind is playful and somehow entered the lazy room. During an afternoon siesta, after long hours of struggle with the pen, Ryan carelessly kept the diary half open. An intruder, the wind is already curious and turns the pages randomly; they wake up from the slumber and urged to narrate the freshly written story.

A soul is completely unaware of the stealthy intruder who wishes to delve deeper into the written words and also try to translate them. Who knows, what can conspire from such discussions? The anonymous reader is willing to interpret and gladly share the experiences, politely doing so without showing any interest in being in the limelight.

Ryan rarely speaks, until and unless prodded; he gladly starts a fantastic conversation with multiple characters to furiously create a profound network of ideas.

He socialised in the metaphysical world and resulted in all these thoughts being generously shared with the blank pages. It is the only place he finds solace and gladly wanders around after crossing the boundaries and limitations.

Multiple characters with eternal dreams and possibilities magnified their potential to engage in dynamic dialogues, offering rare glimpses of life. The source of light remains a mystery and they show rare hues of the Universe.

Ryan’s inability to conform inspired him to build a bridge that allowed him free passage towards an unexplored world. Here, reality fades away and in fact, many other realities are illuminated by ardent imaginations.

This kind of freedom becomes a habit and prepares a traveller who can dare to shatter stereotypes and also have that discipline to not stray away from the path.   A timid looking lad takes the Herculean challenge to create a world with indomitable philosophy; words that will be messengers of eternity.

While sleep can be an escape, it also offers tranquillity and time to wander in the land of dreams. As the head is buried in the soft pillows, the soft moaning of floating dreams is audible. From here starts an everlasting relationship; a Divine connection pulls the soul away from the miseries and touches of melancholy.

‘You there, hey lad, c’mon here’, the casual warmth of a soul evident from the tone… ‘Come along, let’s go for a stroll’, calls this man, with a pleasant face and small frame, he leant forward to shake hands.

‘Who are you?’ ‘How did you know I will be visiting now?’ Ryan enquired in a slightly casual way; he didn’t want to reveal his astonishment.

‘I am given many names according to my moods and attitude.’ There’s a whiff of rebellion and also that profound sense of freedom of eternity in the voice. ‘Aren’t you happy talking to me lad?’ An amiable soul present in the formless avatar, yet, this friendship seems eternal.

Ryan, the less he speaks, louder his inner voice becomes. None, in the world that is dependent on loud and energetic communication can translate this as normal behaviour. Mostly, seen as a recluse, the inquiring voices soon became scarce.

Here, as if Ryan can effortlessly communicate through silence. He feels comfortable being here; for a moment, he turns in his sleep that shifts his focus towards a serene place where in the middle there is a placid lake.

He feels a friendly nudge on his shoulder that urges him to walk towards it.

‘Hey lad, you need not answer me.’ Comprehending his unwillingness to speak unnecessarily, he directs him towards the place. ‘Can you hear an echo?’ Ryan cannot locate the source of a beautiful melody and its echo; quite like magic, this soiree becomes interesting as well as intriguing.

‘I’ll leave you here.’ There’s palpable restlessness in the voice.

‘Will come back later, for, I have to interpret some passages that require my immediate consideration.’ He leaves Ryan with these thoughts.

Here he is in Ryan’s room again; keenly reading from the narrative penned by him.

Here are the few paragraphs that were written before Ryan decided to take a break and go on a surreal journey.

The words from his diary-

“Life has as many chances as there are thoughts. The inspirations to think and create an environment which will cocoon the sincere dreams require constant effort. It’s a miracle that instead of being coerced every day, the name survives till the end. So many experiences bring life to the precipice of distress; yet, there is that voice constantly guiding the heart and mind to consult before making a choice.

Opinions are entrapments, which usually are cunning enough to snatch away those liberating thoughts at their inception. It’s a life that brushes against the crisscross journey and at the end determination of a spirit gets frayed.  Being aware all the waking hours and as well as during sleep is a miracle. Certainly, the mind constantly toils against every effort from a society that offers a shroud of generalisations.

We have to weigh the two contrasting emotions that we have so effortlessly poised on the pivot of uncertainty; a slight breeze can threaten to sway life between them and can easily go beyond our control to discriminate. Here, discrimination becomes necessary to at least identify the exact emotion that rule at that particular moment, instead of having to switch uncomfortably or too frequently that may have an adverse effect on the mind. 

There isn’t any movement ahead without having to tide over these undulations along with the waves of sustained melancholy that join the mainstream flow to incite a terrifying force that can challenge the best of swimmers.

Relationships, friendships, acquaintances, and enemies are the dimensions through which life is being constantly tested. What are the chances of learning so many languages convincingly? Reading the situations comprehensively, one has to choose an appropriate language, spoken in a tone that justifies the nature of a relationship with the particular moment.

For those who feel and assimilate the feelings rather intrinsically, they are considered to be slow in an environment where one has to multitask convincingly. Succeeding to please everyone is perceived to be an impediment. Whether one succeeds to hold anyone’s interest convincingly, the conversations offer a glimpse of the heart. It is to be seen as to how far we convince each other truthfully while confronting the daily juggernaut of reactions.

What’s more challenging? Consider the options- the reactions from preconceptions or uncertain twists in the narrative because of misplaced words.

Even memories fail the mind and coagulate the vision while erroneously interpreting them according to the present situations; failing to maintain the sacredness of those bygone moments. Remembrance can be risky and can push the soul towards a retrospective journey while corroding the present. Those unseen abrasions on the mind leave a long-lasting uneasiness, and somehow, alter the outlook towards life thereon.

Picking up new eyes to view each event with much passion and fairness it is necessary to rein in the haphazard rays to converge at a convenient point.”

A considerable time elapsed and Ryan has been quietly strolling; sometimes, bending towards the lake to hurriedly read the reflection of his facial expressions.

‘Am I being prejudiced while interpreting myself?’ He posed this unusual question to himself.

‘Are my chances of survival hinged to my thoughts?’ Unmindfully, he was making some patterns on the soft mud. ‘Probably yes… I have written it today.’ Referring to the first sentence with which he started writing his narrative.

It felt as if he has successfully connected the real and surreal and it is increasingly becoming an experience beyond a dream.

‘I like the uncertainty here.’ He feels he’s becoming biased towards the other reality… ‘Certainly, I can consider the questions that arise after unhurried reflection.’ At the backdrop, the magical and blissful echo continues.

‘At least, I can see the thoughts converge here.’ He’s referring to the line where he wrote about harnessing the haphazard thoughts.

Now, he feels his friend has returned. He’s here after having been invisible for quite some time.

‘Hey lad, shouldn’t you finish what you’ve been writing?’ He says rather amusingly.

‘How’d you know about my writing?’ Ryan is baffled… ‘Hmmm… Seems you have given me something to compose… time for me to say goodbye my friend.’

‘Never mind… let your soul emerge from the world’s generalisations and narrate the truth you have experienced.’ A reassuring statement for Ryan…

He wakes up to realise that it’s evening and he’s overslept. He cannot quite recollect every little detail of the dream but does turn the pages of his diary. The last few words from the passage ‘the haphazard rays to converge at a convenient point…’ seems to have been emphasised by an underline, of which he’s sure, was not from his pen.