The walk

By the time I stepped outside, the leaves were on fire. I let out a little silent cry to flush out the night’s dream. The sting of the dream lingered though. I walked with an uncertain gait. Well, it's been some time since I let myself ‘out’. The pavement was crowded for an early morning. The world, of course, was out there to get me! How else can it be? What other life-or-death matters do people have in their hands to not devour and laugh at my demons? 

I mustered more courage with each step and began to ruminate on the night’s dream. It’s been 10 years since the relationship ended. It’s weird enough that this should come back as a dream now. What’s more pathetic is that I dreamt of us in a reassuring embrace, like back in those days. Now, how embarrassing is that? That it is my deepest desire that we are together, especially when I ended the relationship for no coherent reason that I can fathom now.  

A breeze hit my tangled hair. A man with an abnormally long nose clambered on to the pavement. The lit cigarette in his mouth created a ghostlike patch in the air. He walked with careless ease. I felt a surge within my depths to knock him down and snatch his cigarette. It’s been a while since I quit smoking. I felt a gush of pride about my resolve, even as the emptiness it created hit be like boulders. He picked a newspaper from the stall and gazed at me as though he read my thoughts as I walked past him.  

My favorite bench by the corner is now a turquoise blue. The last time I saw it, it was pure simple white. Too tired to be angry at the lack of taste of whoever painted it blue, I sat down at the edge and tied my hair in a ponytail. The phone beeped out the many messages as I switched it on. June is expecting her second baby. I felt a gush of affection for Dimple, her elder one, and wondered how she would look like when she is older. I tried to remember how June used to be, who she used to be... It was hard, like trying to remember something from a past life. Like there is a past life! People never want to settle for one life, do they? They want many more and hope there were many before! I really hope this is the only one. I do. I got up with new-found energy.  

The walk to the coffee shop was brisk. I longed for the familiar warmth of the coffee. The coffee shop was crowded too. I resented the couple who sat on the couch near the back exit. That was my spot. A brief chat with Andrew reaped no benefits to either of us, as usual. The smell of fresh brew lingered in the air. I found a new spot by the window as the old men left the tip on the table and hurried out. I sat down quickly. A familiar longing swept over me as I looked out through the window and saw a bunch of teenagers beating each other up and laughing, all the while sharing a cigarette. A train of thought abandoned me as a stream of strong fragrance hit my nostril. The coffee shop was now filled with a weird new smell. It was hard to describe the smell, but it was strong. The shop smelled like the sun, like its golden rays. Perhaps, they have used a new air freshener or something. I hated the new improvement and imagined having a fight with Andrew for the reinstatement of my familiar coffee shop smell. I was taken back by the ferociousness that the ‘imagined me’ exuded during the fight. 

I turned back to have a glimpse of Andrew. He has gotten into a fight with a woman who had jet black hair flowing down behind her. I waited till the women stormed out. 

The pavement has gotten busier. A bird flew down with a twig in her beak. Why does a bird ever care to fly down? Isn't the sky its limit, like literally?. Men and women walked past me, happy in their affairs, hustling about. Strange! How can anyone be happy? A little girl brushed past me with her tiny hands holding fast to a bunch of candies. She forced her way through a group of priests with near-identical solemn faces and brisk attire. Her tangerine skirt lingered longer than one would expect on a little bush of violet pansies that grew with such incongruence on the stone pavement. Such pleasant sights. But where is my happiness? The real one, the gush of dopamine, or whatever the happy hormones are?  

It’s hard being bitter. It's harder trying to be happy. But it’s definitely grotesque to fake it. But "fake it till you make it", they say. Oh! the quest for happiness and the many who fell on such nasty thorns and bled! Is it even possible to put an end to these endless ramblings in my head? Maybe, my hedonistic hunt for happiness would end there, for good. But what is a woman if not her thoughts! People say killing oneself is not a permanent solution. Maybe not. But why not try it for some temporary relief?  

I laughed at my own atrociousness and retreated my thoughts further into my favorite utopian dreamland where humans are simple beings, not wired for such an extensive range of emotions. I looked with disgust at my own dreamland where art and poetry had no bare chance. A woman bumped into me. She looked plain and stupid. 

“Why are people born with such weird faces?”, I thought to myself. I helped her pick the lot that slipped out from her stuffed handbag.   

“Gosh, you look like someone who could make use of some suicide!” She blurted out. I laughed. She laughed apologetically. 

Sun had begun its invasion on the stone pavement, slowly but surely, kissing its crevices and broken edges. The little girl brushed past us on her way back, now with a bunch of other kids bumping into each other and speaking incoherent gibberish.   

She tied her jet-black hair in a tight bun. Her perfume smelled like the rays of the sun hitting a beach. “Gosh why do some women look so atrociously beautiful when they laugh”, I thought aloud as we crossed the busy street together.