The clock ticks on I can hear it loud as the dial reverberates inside the oval glass casing of the clock, it’s on my bedroom wall standing tall and aloof as if staring at me from afar, gazing and analysing my every move. The bed is soft but only just, its white sheets now covered with obscure stains of coffee and jam with bred crabs sticking to its fibres. It’s been weeks since I ventured out, I feel like the lost protagonist of the film Memento who looses his memory and has to write everything down just so that he can get by his day. Tic Tock Tick Tock the clock moves on, time passes by as I stare at my laptop trying to figure out what to write and I keep jogging my mind looking for stories. I try I try but nothing comes in my mind, so I just start typing and words turn into lines, lines turn into sentences and they in turn into paragraphs, before I know it I have filled an entire page that makes sense to some one who will read it. It’s that simple when you want to write just do it, you don’t need a story nor a idea nor a though just pen down words and after a while you realise what you have written makes sense to some one.
The phone is off the hook, I took it off as I did not want to be disturbed, the bathroom is wet it has been two days that I had my last bath, as I have no routine now a days, my life spent in a daze. I do not know where to turn for inspiration, they say when you feel this way the only way to look is within.
I am a lost boy when I can’t express exactly what I feel in words, I am lost boy when I do not know where I am headed, I am a lost boy as I still look at my tomorrow. The room is small the ac very loud and it freezes inside at times, I rarely watch tv, my time spent eating, bathing, writing and contemplating, its a hermits life a monks life and I love it. To be just able to cut off from the world and re treat within is the joys that I have discovered as I have moved on in life. The inner riches are the ones that I seek the most and those give me the ultimate satisfaction.
The room is littered with coke can’s, and chocolate wrappers, my bags clutter the small space of the room on the left as there is hardly any room for me to walk. I have pair of small brown rubber slippers I picked up from my grandmothers house, but they are two size smaller and very un comfortable to walk with.
The room has mirrors and a small refrigerator keeps the water bottle cool at Rs 1800 bucks a night it is reasonable I suppose, I am happy in it has I was in my previous five star abode. The staff has gotten to know me over the last two weeks and greet me with a smile in the morning they are now well versed with my routine and habits.
I have put on weight during Corona Times and have developed a slightly wonky walk due to my weight, I find it a bit difficult to walk straight and climbing stairs is not as easy as it use to be, is age showing on me know ? I hope not, I have still to hit fifty and my face shines like that of a baby boy.
The wooden bed is steady and gives me good sleep but I did wake up kicking the laptop and phone from the bed a few nights back, maybe a dream or a nightmare but I did get startled, thank god for the writing it keeps me sane and keeps me focused on something, for me it is like my meditation my prayer my song and my Dhyan. The more I do it the more joy I feel as I fill pages and pages with irrelevant words and sentences that in the the end make for a perfect read and an entertaining piece.
Getting lost at times in the streets that open up from my hotel gate, I find life keeps going and so do I. We Are all lost one way or the other either in our minds or in the world at large. The thing is can we take a moment and find our souls amongst all this commotion and noise. But the mind needs to express and writing is the best tool of that expression. So I keep at it, at least it keeps me sane and breathing, I am happy to be alive because of it. It saves me money at the end of the day, no shrinks or spin doctors to pay fees so that they can listen to my bull shit, all I have to do is vomit my feelings on my blog and type away with glee.
I wore a fresh green Corona Mask yesterday got it specially from the market, I am also enjoying my long hair which I have been growing for a year, now a nice pony tail adorns my face. The black rimmed spectacle give me back my geeky look and my plump double chin gives the impression of a boy who never grew up into a man. My large girth and gurgling tummy makes me look like the laughing Buddha. I am a bit of both the Lost Boy and the Laughing Buddha with a strong inner side and being. It is the meditation during the day that also keeps my energy chakra’s moving and keeps my body juices on the go. With friends in the area ready to listen to my talks and a friendly lawyer in the city taking up my case and defending me, I feel more relaxed and at ease, the tension has evaporated and my writings have begun to flow. Their was a lull in my stories and blog post last moth in fact I did not bite anything last month. But now the juice is coming back and words and flowing clearly and with elan.
I have my YouTube videos to watch and my idleness to give me company, some one said best thing in the world to do is to do nothing and I have followed that advice most of the time. All I need is the internet and my laptop and I am through for the day. I wait outside my door listening to conversations in the lobby of the hotel. I stop at paan shops to get a glimpse of the street banter, maybe to hear a new joke or a new word I can use in my essays. These days it is the farmers agitation and how Corona Vaccine will cure us all. The local trains have been allowed to move freely as Mumbai tries to go back to normal, even the swimming pools have been opened up and Cinema halls allowed to have 50’% capacity. With the new Budget having been passed the Sensex has shot up and their could be a bull run as economists debate about a speedy recovery and a V shaped recession.
I am oblivious to the happenings of the world as they only touch me through the electronic media but I feel I need to be informed, as making conversation is also very important for a writer, the more conversation the more story ides and the more characters one can in corporate in my stories. I have understood one thing clearly anything can be a story one has to just give it some attention.
There are many rats on the street facing my hotel and the pace is infested with old torn electrical wires that run on top of the houses in the area. I ventured out in the night and could hear a kitten trapped inside a a blag rubbish bag trying to kick his way out but he couldn’t get out. I bent over and opened the bag and let the poor thing out. That was one random act of kindness for the day, I believe in that, we should do one random act of kindness towards some one every day. I do that often either giving food or money or buying irrelevant things fro poor bigger kids who run amok on the street. A act of kindness with out reward without even knowing the person you are doing it for and then forgetting about it completely that is real charity, basically real charity needs no reward the act itself is the reward and I have learnt that as I have grown old.
I hit my head from time to time trying to focus on my words and my spread sheets, as time and again my mind meanders into useless repetitive thoughts and old patterns of aimlessness tries to enter me. I remind myself and steady my fingers as the tap the keys again and gain looking for divine inspiration from somewhere.
“ I hear there has been an incident, you Ok need any help.” A old friend called up worried that I had gotten into soup again due to my blog and my offensive writings.” I am fine I will tell you about it in time, I am Ok no need to worry.” I tell the friend trying to deflect my attention from the soup i landed in a few months back. Frozen with fear I had also given up writing for the past month but now I am back on track. Still a bit lost, but trying to get back, the boy and the man the tussle with in me is still on and keeps going.
At times when I keep awake at night tapping away word after word I do indulge in some Maggie that’s my night food, along with tea and jam bread it is my only meal when nothing is around to chew and eat. Lost boy indeed I go out for smokes clutching my leather bag which has my money and passport just to make sure no one steals it from me. I am alert at times and at times drift away into laziness and thoughtlessness at times. I have to hit my head with a brick to get my attention back and to pull my mind back into the activity at hand, the more I tug at it the more attention I get and more energy I spend on my focussed task that is to fill one page after another with words that are all jumbled up in my mind, as I spit them out on paper they some how begin to make some sense to me and those who read my blog.
I can never see the road ahead all I see is shadows and fuzzy images of what could happen, my intuition and foresight as my only guide I march ahead like a lost boy taking assured steps towards and un assured future.
Menu cards from eateries around litter my room, as I flip its many pages trying to figure out what to eat tomorrow.
Lost, at least I am aware I am lost most are not aware of their situation, I know I am lost so Tehri is no need to pretend that I know where I am going because the truth is I don’t. The very act of that knowing frees me both form with in and with out. I know I am lost and can move on just like that it lifts a huge burden from my head. Like a lazy hermit I spend endless hours in my room puking out words atet clutter my mind and I do that joy fully and with full attention.
So much has happened I a one year long stay in the maximum city I have been robbed and swindled by a hotel booking seamster. I have attempted to make a web-series and their has been an FIR that has been lodged against me. I have broken up with my mate Fixer, I have been making rounds of the courts with my new Bihari Lawyer called Jeetu and I have managed to write four books along with selling the movie rights of one book, all in the time of Corona. Yet I feel lost and un full filled the thirst to keep at it drives me each day to churn out more words and the process seems to be endless and repetitive at times but who cares I guess that is life, it just goes on and on till we drop of it’s conveyor belt one day and with a pop our story ends too. Till then the cycle of day and night work and rest continues as we try to achieve our never ending goals and overcome the sea of our endless desire, only to find we are still un full filled at the end of it all.
No matter how fast we run how many goals we achieve, how many desires we full fill Tehri is still more distance to cover and more dirt to dig it just keeps going on and on. We can pick up the tempo from time to time and get into bliss full zones from time to time through meditation, prayer, a song and a dance but all in all the dribble keeps going and silent music at times turns into boring cacophony.
The never ending noise from the street, the agitations the scandals and the street Jalsa add to the babble and endless noise, the only way to escape that is to stay in the room and write. That way you are oblivious to what is going around oneself.
I want to feel free break boundaries only to realise when I break them I just set new boundaries for myself the game just keeps going and there is no way to escape. No wonder the Buddhist call this Samsara the circle of life as they call it in the Famous Disney Cartoon The Lion King.
Its’ all round and round with no respite and no break, you can’t jump out of the phenomena called life. You have to keep going till you drop off the wretched game one day. Just look at my Grand Mother she is 93 now and still playing the game, my God I wonder what she thinks of life.” Jeevan Kya hei koi na Jane, Jo Jane pachtaye, jo na Jane pachtaye.” Famous lines from an old Sudhir Mishra movie very aptly rings in my ear.
I am lost totally lost so that one day I can find, I am lost absolutely lost so that one day I can return from where I once started. I can never loose the lost boy with in me as it is my very essence and my very being. Life has taken me round and round but never spat me out of it’s merry go round and I am great full for that at least.
Back to the empty space of my room as I stare back at the clock it’s the middle of the night and I am still ready to go on and on, my mind agile needing no break. I can see patterns in the mind at times and as I type away my bowl of energy moves from the left hemisphere to the right as I look deep into the cracks and crevasses of my mind trying to make a better story.
“ Aap mast hey Sahib, very care free and jolly, you also pay money always on time and advance very good guest for us, you stay for long we give you more discount.” The Hotel administrator told me. “I am a writer I stay awake at night to write, so keep the gate open I like to take walks and think about the concepts and stories that I write about.” I went on to explain to the man.
I stare at the lamp post with it’s dim lights their is a tall man taking on the mobile animatedly and youth sitting on a ledge engrossed with a book trying to read in the lamp light, it looked to me he was studying for his exams, apart from that all I can see is an occasionally street dog passing by.
The lost boy has managed to maneuver himself around 40 countries but seems to have got stuck in Mahad by chance. I know I will find my way and bearings from here to as the world is one big hole and you are never actually lost, you just keep spinning round and round till you pop of. The rounds are all intertwined each opening looked to each ending, so in a way one can never get lost in the world.
The mind buzzes away as if exploding every minute like balls of helium in the sun. The only respite is to write your feeling and your thoughts and make the slate of your mind clean and empty again.
Lost indeed to be found by some one, you loose one friend you find another, you loose one city, you arrive at another, you loose one relationship and you move into another, the damn thing never ends. When I contemplate life I see images of the Viraat Roopa of Krishna reciting the Bhagwat Geeta, it’s just endless dance of life and death and re birth again and gain the cyclical pattern.
As I loose myself in my writings I loose a sense of time and float into transcendental states that gives me bliss and what I write gives me meaning and reason to keep moving forward. It’s a Zen monks life insular and only focused inwards, Monks are looking for inner riches and when I right I get access to these treasures.
I have been lost on the mountains and the hills, I have been lost 40 feet under the sea, I have been lost in traffic on rivers and even at see. I have been lost in mid air and sometimes in train carriages. But I still some how still manage to reach my destination. At times I myself wonder how I got back home and found my bearing but I always do in the nick of time.
It is how you see it and how you perceive it all is in your head and all can be controlled all that is needed is attention and awareness. The more awareness the more focus and more accomplishment off the tasks in hand. Focused writing is a great way to prolong your awareness, your focus, clean up the clutter in the mind and open up and heal negative energy chakra that choking your inner world of thoughts, emotions and feelings. It relives your pain points and makes you feel light and feather footed.
Chatting affirmations can also help but that is a long and arduous process and needs to be strengthened with clean visualisation, short description of words and a corresponding feeling. If that you do with all these elements intact in a focused manner, one can pull things that one wants into their world and feel more full filled not to mention relived.
So it’s chanting, writing and observing for me, not necessarily in that order. The lost boy doesn’t look that lost not when I am chatting and meditating. All that is needed is involvement and focus to the immediate to the now to the present. One needs to reign in the mind for that to happen and not let to just float around aimlessly in space.
Lost boy you say I am totally in control at times only to let go for some time that to at my choosing. But then desires keep flashing infant of my face and that is what keeps driving me full filling one after the other. They are like noose tied to my neck as I try to break free from them, yet the clutch on to me, clawing at my skin like wild hounds and scavengers looking for scraps of meet and broken bone to chew on, a drop of blood from my skin to lick at. I am torn by my endless desires and still feel un full filled at times. There is no respite in this world every one seems to be in a hurry, running after their own desires and their own hollow goals when will this madness stop, or will it ever stop.
Isn’t that what the holy sages call the Karma Chakra, the never ending wheel of life that can never stop and will go on till eternity as it has no end and no beginning it just flows endlessly like they Tao.
Suddenly again it goes all silent as the tapping of the laptop stops and gives way to the tick tock tick tock off the wall clock infant of my bed, at times I don’t know which noise is which, it is hard to distinguish. I can hear the crackle of the fridge in my hotel lobby, the helpers are no doubt trying to make some tea. The night is still strong and the Bra-ham Murat is still a few hours away, I will try to be awake by then and try not to doze off till then.
I await the morning sun, my stomach still girdling for more food, god knows how much I eat I still feel my belly is empty.
With my new found girth I feel like Humpty Dumpty who sat on a wall, I am just waiting for my fall. Lost and Found is the game I play as I sit in my room and contemplate, what to write and what to say, I try and keep all negativity at bay. Om Om Om is all I chant as I move into a headless trance.