Thinking Out Loud

மனிதனைத் தேடி ஒரு பயணம் அவன் முகமறியாது முகவரி தெரியாது அவன் யார் என யாரும் கேட்டால் பதில் சொல்ல முடியாது... ஒரு முறை கண்ட சுவடு மனதில் குழம்பிய பிம்பமாய் மனிதன் யார்? மாசற்ற மனதுடன் இருப்பானா? மறுபடியும் அவனைக் காண்பேனா? வாழ்க்கைப் பயணத்தில் வழிப்போக்கன் குறுக்கிட்டு மனிதன் முகமூடி அணிந்திருப்பான் என்றான் எதற்காக என்ற கேள்விக்கு விடையில்லை ஒரு வேளை, மனிதன் தன்னை மாற்றிக்கொண்டானோ மற்றவருடன் சேர்ந்து வாழ? தனிமை விரும்பாதவன் தனித்துவம் இழந்துவிட்டான்...

Did you know Walter Matthau was referred to as a half-melted rubber bulldog? Walter who? Oh shit! You don't know Matthau? You know from Grumpy Old Men? Hey, who you calling grumpy? Oh, never mind. Seems like most conversations I have end up as a monologue. Not all of them are about Walter Matthau, but still, wouldn't it be nice if we were older, then we wouldn't have to wait so long. No, stop going off on a tangent, I meant to say, wouldn't it be nice… oh, I lost it. I'm miles away and you say 'penny for your thoughts' and I say 'why, you have cash to spare?' I don't want to sound like an arrogant bastard, but they say sometimes that truths are more arrogant than fiction. Really? Who are "they"? You know, they, them who say "No, you won't be taxed on that" Really? Yes, and then you get hit with GST, VAT and BLT! Bacon, lettuce and tomato? No. breathing living tax! So, this is a duologue? Yes, as Noel Coward said… I know! Y

I don't know why it happened. I wanted to read a report before I got to work, so while waiting for the train, I decided to give it a try. There was a slight breeze that day, which didn't bother me, but on the contrary was quite refreshing. I was feeling a positive vibe among the people waiting for the train when my mind wandered off after reading few pages (the report was quite tedious) and suddenly, out of nowhere, a disturbing illusion took over me. For some reason, my fingers had gone numb and the papers were yanked out of my hand. I saw the papers flying out on to the road and creating a multiple-vehicle collision that cost many lives. I cannot help but watch, in dismay, as limbs and torsos were scattered all over the freeway and blood rushing forth in a never-ending stream. I started to panic and immediately put the report in the file and the file in my bag and made sure the bag was firmly closed shut. I was not sure if others noticed, but I had started to sweat profusely

It was one of many fine evenings. I know; I had watched the sunrise and sunset from my bed. I have felt the warm rays of the sun waking me up and the gentle evening breeze caressing my cheek to say good night. Today was like any other beautiful day. Unfortunately, most people would dismiss today as just another day. For them it would not have been special, except me. I feel sad for these people. Why would they be so miserable? It is as if they have forgotten the pure natural air and rather breathe in the fumes; as if they have forgotten how to be happy. I feel a drop of rain on my cheek; a tingling sensation. What is this? Why would people want to protest the rain with their dreary umbrellas? Why won't they feel anything anymore? Am I the only one here to feel the phenomenon that nature has to offer? I feel the cool earth embracing me. It is a warm feeling. I am happy. I lie on the cool earth and suddenly I am devoid of all worldly troubles. Have I always felt this way? I could not