The air was chilly, yet a warmth spread in my chest and my skin spurted into goose bumps. I lived for those moments. Having finished making a couple of calls, I stood there on the top of the overhead water tank on top of the 4 storied building where I was currently housed. The skyscrapers lit up the mid-night sky. Soon cheers of celebration were ringing, charging up the atmosphere in a snap.
As expected, my team leader came after me wondering what was taking me this long. I followed him down the tank, from behind the room under the tank to where the rest of my 6 member team were on the other side. Having been together for 3 months in Bangalore, we, a group of 25, split into 3 groups heading in 3 different directions. Ours came to Udaipur. It was painful to just be by ourselves, after being together in everything together. Yet the 6 of us never missed out on fun. I sort of went into a trans thinking of the others. I was soon enveloped in their warm embrace and their cheery happy new year, not knowing what the year or the next new year's eve held.
2 weeks later, I stood behind the room on the terrace, watching the sunset, inhaling the air there as if to cherish that moment and tuck it in my memory as the sun gloriously made it ways through the mountains, its rays following it down like a royal's majestic robe trailing behind: until I saw nothing but the mountains and heard the silence. The same night was my last there and held a promise with the huge question of tomorrow for the rest of the year
. . .
Two dots were next to the moon that night. They were unusually bright. I wondered if they were planets, as the train sped its way through the landscape. I saw them even when I woke up the next morning on the train. I thought of them as we - my mother and I, made our way to the escalator from the Railway Station, waiting to reach my hostel. The moment to the top of the bridge didn't go wasted. I took that moment to embrace what was too come, seeing little more of the place as I escalated to the top. The "stars" stayed on.
The gloomy sky mirrored the ocean groaning softly. Why did a simple walk to the beach with a friend look like the catharsis I needed to deal with everyday? It was only a month here. The sun was noiselessly tore itself away from the sea. I looked on as the waves got tossed violently by the wind, its ally, as it tried to look lifting its arms towards the sky as if beckoning it to come back. But the sun was set in its way, it went farther and farther away, blazing furiously down at the ocean, creating a havoc of colours that blended into the sky.
I couldn't comprehend how I my part in the story - the sun furiously separating itself from its home or the waves pining for the sun or had I become void like the voiceless sky. The answer never came but more questions did. Did those questions enhance the way I'd live my life? Did they challenge me? If they did, I never was challenged. Why did it seem like I was getting scorched by the sun? Did it seem beautiful? Or was it plain havoc?
I got to know that the "stars". They were actually Jupiter (the brighter "star") and Mars. I'd watch them everyday and stare at them them before I head to my hostel. Why else did they welcome me everyday?
The sun filters into my classroom around 5 pm everyday, in my 2nd year classroom (and the final) as if wanting to reach out and touch everything that it can reach out to ensure they all remember it even when darkness invades the same space and the moonlight would push through. I put up the curtains as if to welcome it. It was a free hour again - each did as they pleased. It would generally mean playing a movie one liked. But today everyone forgot the movie. Each talked to the other he was close to. I sat right in the middle of the room watching the class from a vantage point. I knew - by fluke what each one was up to. I did not need to see them.
The golden tinge of the sun as it was beginning to fade away and slowly darkness began to seep it. It occurred to me then, that, I was actually looking for the sparks. Do sparks fly in classrooms? Nope - there is a place and time for it. While its normal to expect, I had long decided normal is boring. So what if I don't connect to the class. So what if I cannot connect with my class. So what if I have to read or write or sing to keep myself occupied. So what if I can never see the sparks but the nightmares remain. So what if I don't understand the language even after I've tried. I can always go and watch them at home or be around people who make things work and erase the nightmare.
The sky broke into tiny droplets as if falling from a giant cracker. The sky was dark but there were lights illuminating, the place. That was when I met few people who've come to become my friends. Ironic as it was they are in the same block as mine. They asked me, where I was all this while. I said running away from the sky. We meet everyday, the sky is mostly dark and starless but the darkness within escapes even from the corner and the light hides it underneath. . They in their language and me in mine we speak. Not understanding the language fully yet understanding perfectly.
What if I didn't meet them 2 weeks back under the cloudy sky? What if I didn't see them at all? Its only in the darkness, light is appreciated for its worth and only after a season of the void sky do dark clouds rain over dry land.
Yes sparks fly. But only when belief meets with a miracle.
