Suffering is happiness, backwards

Being a holiday, i normally don't enjoy the luxury of being at home and lazing... today, was one such memorable day! A late start to my morning, the sun's rays peeping into my room, straight into my eyes, screaming about the pleasure they were extracting from devouring my pleasured sleep. I had to give up. I don't think i enjoy anything more than a lazy, slow and aimless day... But today, still was different as i had work to do. This world in which we live in is excruciating to the plight to a young 21-something guy who doesn't know tad abut taxes but since, he is earning peanuts has to pay the nut in taxes with the shell remaining for him to savour!

Well, this was the start to my beautiful day! file the PAN application. I went to the same road which led to a place which gave me the most beautiful and precious gift of my life and took away the same too, my college. If given a chance i would never go back to the place but alas, I had to as the courier shop and the cyber cafe for print-outs was around that area. Its almost been a year since i went back to my college, the road to nostalgia was long, tricky and teary. I was confused with the choice of emotions i had at hand. I was cheerful yet sad, I was intrigued yet detached. There were many people in an around the campus whom i knew, who never changed places and whom i could say confidently, that they know me.

The air got heavier as i entered the premises. At once my inner-voice commanded me to go back but i continued staring at the vulnerable and content faces of students who were doing exactly what i did for three years. Sometimes i do feel strange for the fact that everyone, at different stages of their lives perform the same old activities going on for decades, or may be centuries. Girls were gossiping and bursting into sudden bursts of laughter, guys checking-out hotties and trying to make a conversation and making a fool out of themselves! Its a vicious circle i must say.

Amidst the crowd i sensed that i was suffering. And precisely then, words of Shantaram hammered through my head - suffering is happiness, backwards.

I was happy reliving the memories for those few seconds in the hell gates that i mustered the courage to enter. And I was happy that the place once was a synonym for heaven and life. The memories are few and affable, not enough for me to last my lifetime but has anyone left me with any other option?

Today, I don't see myself different from the poor living in the inhuman conditions in slums. Living at my fourth floor apartment with the luxuries of being educated and responsible, is haunting me to death. I have always longed to be alone, aloof and distant from people. God never heard me then and I was surrounded with people. Now, when I wanted to be with friends, when i actually understood how it felt to be cared and loved by friends, when i actually realised the meaning of friendship and loved the company, God suddenly decided to listen to my prayers.
In silent tears i feel the guilt of my prayers and my love of loneliness. In light sobbing, i realise the true value of my flesh that is cut and thrown of mercilessly and in dark nights i fancy the wild imagination of the best days of my life. I have sailed through the happy times and now, i m living backwards.

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