Unspoken Guilt

Two minds. That's what I am always in. One of the cons of being an introvert is that you think a tad too much. Emotions mostly take precedence over logic, atleast for the (in)sane. Some smart-ass says 'emotions have taught mankind to reason'. In which case, how far are you willing to caper your principles of reasoning? Is it worthy to curb your emotions for logic when neither is gaugeable? However so, letting logic or emotion take precedence over one another amounts to, what I call, a backlog of guilt. There's no denying that our beliefs/ideals are subjective and what's emotional for you is logical for me and vice-versa. If you disagree, you carry three more ounces of guilt than I do.

Most guilt is illogical anyway but it doesn't make you feel any better. Some of us are too good to even realize guilt. Lucky people. Guilt certainly has a domino-effect on your thinking. Many a times, I am guilty for not having done anything in particular, but for simply how I think or feel. We were never encouraged to question. And when your logical questions evade emotions, you are labeled arrogant. If you don't question and act humble, welcome to fool's paradise. Very often, I find myself in this dilemma of sorts. I learnt the hard way to never let emotions take over your judgement. And, perhaps, that is what has resulted in an unspoken guilt. If you do not speak your mind, your are regretful, later, if not know. Either way, its the same spin cycle. 

I remember on our way to school one day during mid-term examinations, the bus broke down and all of us got down pretty much sunk in our books. A little boy who worked on the cycle shed about the corner was intently staring at us. I striked a conversation and realized he was about my age. Squint, he looked much, much younger than his age. All he said was, "I wish you could help me go to school." Everytime, the bus took a turn round the corner, I would either hunch down or look away, consciously ignoring the guy. I was guilty.

Logic: I couldn't help him in any way. I am 12 afterall.
Emotion: I could, but I never tried.

All actions, what we believe to be logical decision, are subconsciously based on emotions. We talk about decisions that feel or seem right. Emotions are perhaps signals that tell us a lot about what we really choose. What you presume to be hurtful (or not) may be favor in disguise (or not) but what's the harm? They say holding guilt is a chronic disorder, anyway. Logical or not, you have to rid of your unspoken guilt.

If you need answers, ask. Love someone, well, hello! What are you waiting for? (There is a risk of getting friendzoned) Hate someone, punch. (As long as (s)he deserves and you are not guilty) Disagree, spit.

Ode to a (T)rainy Day

As I pack my bags for the most significant journey of my life (so far), I cannot help myself but engross in a time-warp. Having lived away from home for more than half a decade, there weren't any emotional goodbyes. No hints of excitement or anxiety either. It was time to conform with the monotonous culture of corporate slavery, just like the norm is. At 24, it was my first job. More than that, it was time to be responsible. To be a grown up. To mask your face with happy pretense. I bury myself into thinking what got me to where I was. I recollect instances from as long as I can remember, which, until then, I never gave much thought to. I wonder how a dreamer 'evolves' into just another ordinary wayfarer. A stark realization dawned upon how not everything you expected or planned is meant to be. The essence to sate, however, lies in the journey. In the little memories tucked away in your blind spot. It got me thinking about how apparently-insignificant episodes leave consequential marks on your being. Many a time I had my internal machinery work in an attempt to demystify and overcome circumstances, but in vain. I would always give up these portentous moments of introspection. Not any more. 

I had come way too far from being the nonchalant yet ambitious dreamer. I garnered many a stare for the intense look on my face and possibly unaware of all that was going on around me. The train was unexpectedly on time as I hurried my way into the compartment with a leaden bag in one hand and a McMaharaja on the other. Settling down, the co-travelers first directed their disgust at the chicken-like-smell emanating from the burger and then showered me with complementary insulting questions. Yes, the train was bound to Ahmedabad. Ignoring all courtesies and other quintessential tamashas in the coach, I bunked on the upper berth and plugged in KennyG. 

With the lights out and noises transforming into mere whispers, I crawled out and settled into an unoccupied 'window' seat. As I unbolted the shutter and let the cold wind hit my face, I traveled 20 years back in time in a flash. A moment of unexplained joy. Each passing train with its stochastic flashes of light and dark was a reckoning of the older times. The happier times. My train journeys are one of my most prized memories. They'll always be. The joy of counting the number of bogies in a goods train and rechecking your count with your friends / siblings cannot be put into words. I could imagine a 5 year old me wrapped in a bear-themed cross stitched blue hoodie (which my mother still treasures (in her words, for the next generation!)) looking into the dark nothingness and wondering at the little red lights along the way. The abrupt screeching at little known rail stations, the clink and clash of far away temples, the long hoots, the master's whistles and the breathless vendors' spiel triggers your spirit of journey (read, life). On a rainy day, tracking the droplets on the window pane while also trying to peek out and chart the course of the meandering trains was no less a fantasy. Another splash of fresh rain and you are rejuvenated. Joy untold. How your state of mind metamorphoses, in perspective of a younger, determinant self! From a grumpy, intense adult to a renewed, confident self in a matter of one train journey.

The best of lessons you learn are never taught. I realized, it was the dawn of a new beginning. Rail journeys are a microcosm of your very own life experiences. The mountains rise and fall, rivers widen and shrink, clouds disappear and thunder but the train moves on and on. Into the tunnel, on the bridge and under a flyover, it always makes its way through. And the occasional haunts at the sight of dilapidated (and, of course, unoccupied) buildings was testimony to everything having its own cycle of existence. Flashbacks into past will keep alive the spirit of acceptance. 

There was a whole new level of confidence. There are many coming-off-age stories written and told but if you seek inspiration to your mediocre being, none beats the rail journey. This journey will be etched in my mind, forever. Hanging on to happy memories is as vital as inculcating the ability to accept the unexpected. Coming to terms in life is perhaps a make or break situation for every guy transforming into a man. That overnight journey on the train, I battled my fears, insecurities and inhibitions of a future I was unaware of. The cliche, "Journey is more important the destination", never made more sense to me. My destination, however, seems to be a lifetime away. And the journey, long. Really long.