Out of the Milieu

                           She liked the word 'Oblivion'. Often times she had to commute using the public transport..the Metro train or the buses. She couldn't afford to drive to work. She would take the cab whenever she felt like. Well, the daily commute amongst people in all sizes and shapes was at times blissful because they all were just there and not bothered about her, may be a few glances but that's it. Then they left her to herself. And that she liked. She could be oblivious to the people, surroundings- legally, not confined by the 'issues of  right or wrong'. drowned in the music she listened to or sometimes to the thoughts that ran in a myriad mental landscape. She was more comfortable there.
                        All imaginations came alive when she went into that trance like state. She was amused by the fact that she could afford to think 'weird things' definitely not possible by the usual mortal standards. And that she could think amongst the conventional crowd,  made her feel powerful, exceptional,exhilarating,. She had never been bothered by comments like ' aloof, don't care type etc'. She couldn't afford to be anything but 'original'. She had to be her 'core self'. Well today she thought may be she could have been a 'Film director' because that's where you make all unnatural things appear true. She didn't like anything 'typical'. How strange ? You are physically very much there amongst people or places, but you don't belong ! You exist somewhere else ! The daily subsistence was like the wheels of an automobile that went round and round (redundant in motion) but the forward shift of the dragster could be exciting...direction less...piquant !

Just a thought

                 Amidst the 'must do's' of life : earning money being the numero uno, family, friends...all which revolve around 'others', writing connects one to his/her own self. Going through the poems or other stuff that one jots down, is like graduating in the different levels of the psyche. I have always found a deep sense of peace whenever I have flipped the pages of my diary and re-read them. It has clarified my thinking. It gives me an inner sense of stability as I read them (of course after long gaps because it looks redundant otherwise). Now I hate this as the urgency to yet another 'must do' creeps and I have to leave...