Soltiary confinement

I can truly understand what the character played by Tom Hanks, on a marooned island felt. I haven't seen the movie, but the trailer easily unfolded the plot.
Here I am writing this post on a beautiful Sunday evening. Two days of not speaking to anyone is really tough on the mind. After all, for how long can one hold a book of Greek symbols ? I tried calling my Friend, but he is in a movie, and by the way he stays 500 km away. I called my mom, but she is not at home. So what do i do ?
I wasted the day trying to entertain myself in front of an LCD screen, but some how that didn't work. I am extremely bored. This is like a live telecast of the state of my mind, and thus the active narration. I remember reading a chapter about prisoners being kept in solitary confinement, during the days of the Raj, in the islands of Andaman and Nicobar. Man! That definitely is tough.
This happens every Weekend. I think some schizophrenia would help. At least I'll get the feel of a genius. :D
I shouldn't be poking fun of these mental ailments. I apologize! I don't think anyone is ever going to read this post, unless I tell them to. Even if they do, they may go through it cursorily. (Please don't read it as curiously during the cursory glance).
I can keep going on and on with this, but as i said it is unlikely that anyone would read, and why the hell should i care! it is my blog. I'll write a banal story loaded with crap or a thriller suspense loaded with more crap.
The moment i think, that that no one is going to read, i get the freedom to write, whatever i please.
Mundane things like my bike looks hot after the service, it still makes the rattling sound. I am looking forward for tomorrow, because I can go to office, not that, it is the most wonderful place. On the contrary it is totally opposite. I sit in a fish market, and the guys on top don't give a damn.
I got used to it by now. Well i guess i got to end this post. I'll post again, when I need respite from my solitary state.

Weightlessness

I was at my lowest, when i decided to walk to the top. I took the stairs as the lift too had conspired against me, just like everything else. It was as though each and an every passing instant converted the energy within me into mass, putting unbearable weight on my shoulders. I lifted my head barely enough to look at the next step. I walked and walked, climbing to the top. The door was open, the sky was blue. The ambiance had an inexplicable serenity about it. Maybe I made up for the balance in stress and emotions. I walked to the ledge. The chill breeze hitting my face. I looked down, I could see people walking, not alone but in groups, I could see them laughing. They looked small from the 18th floor, but they were there laughing and talking. OH! Those days...those were the days. Now it is only night. Darkness in the day time for such a long and unbearable time. I looked at them for one last time, inching towards the end of the ledge, now half my foot, floating in air. I couldn't get my eyes off them. They were beautiful in some way, beyond explanation. I suddenly looked up. Flying in circles, looking at me with anticipation were vultures. I looked down again to see the small specks near the group, that were the shadows of the vultures. The people now dispersed, each one walking his lonely path. I closed my eyes, and took the next step....
For a moment I was weightless. I don't remember what happened next...

My Intimidating Hobby

Working in the Government does have its benefits, one has time to pursue one's own interests. That's just a way of saying I have plenty of time to kill. That is after office hours and on weekends. Since i don't have any hobby in particular, I decided to cultivate one. After thinking for a while and listening to instrumental music, I zeroed in on Sitar. I researched the net and I found my guru, who is an accomplished Sitarist and nothing short of a virtuoso.
I sent him a mail and the next day I joined the classes. It started with some prayers and rituals which included things like beetle leaves, incense sticks etc.
We started and I got off to a good start. He lent me a sitar till i got my own.
That was a month ago. Now I am having a tough time, as things get melodious for him and difficult for me. Many a times, my guru remarked on my memory capacity, stating that I had a very poor memory. Adding salt to the wound, he stated that most of his other students learn much faster. It still got worse.In one session,to quote his own words he asked "you are an engineer right?". I realized my mistake was in the technique in which i play, he didn't observe the mistake, but i did after a self discovery. I started improving. But I still am having a very tough time. Playing the Sitar, one has to play the melody in his mind while his finger does the playing on the strings. That just isn't working out for me. I am not trying to write a sad story or some other such thing. I am used to it. And I am sure I'll overcome it.
I just had something new to write about.