Ugly

This one is going to be blatant. Blatant.

How does it feel to be reminded of your roots? To be shown in glimpses, visions of the place to which you belong to for real? Visions of the place where you would want to belong to? Ironically you have made all the sacrifice in life to move away from that one place thus, craving for it more. Your life has been a happy bundle of contradiction and you're looking at it through a glass now. You can't go back and change, but you can look, mercilessly, remorselessly through. You're too tired to regret. That's what long road trips do to you. Staring out of windows, winds setting your face ablaze and hair a-mess, they make you oscillate, back and forth in time, forfeiting now. That's what hundreds of miles on dusty highways do to you, to me. That's what absolute darkness reminds you of.

I had this lasting dream to witness the Brahmaputra. The only masculine river. When I crossed it, the crazy reflections of the crescent moon danced on it crazily, my eyes witnessed what they call a paralyzed fixation. Soul-overwhelmed wouldn't be the word if I would put it that way. So I would let be, that expression, or the lack of it. I also looked for dimming lights on distant mountains, endless roads, nameless milestones.

The lack of surety, adds to life a tinge of beauty it doesn't otherwise deserve. It takes the responsibility off your shoulders because you can't predict. You just sit there, and watch, your own life turn out into a hazy mixture of what you wanted it to become and of what you never wanted it to become. Long, really long drives make you mull of how inconsequential your own wanting has become. And yet they've stayed, the desires, and their untiring ambition.

Also, you get realizations. Here is the blatant part. When I see the world, when my eyes see the world, they put it in two neat categories, non overlapping categories, the pretty and the ugly. Note, beautiful is not a synonym for pretty here. This inevitable segregation happens in the first few seconds of perception, like the impatient human mind cannot rest. The pretty are given a hug and set aside. The ugly are abandoned. Like me. In this abandonment, the ugly sit alone in cold dark rooms and think and feel things the pretty never would. Solitude, forced or claimed is sometimes the most affordable glimpse into paradise.The ugly gets insights, and depths, long enriching journeys into her own self and outside. These journeys help them find each other. I realized just why I connect so much with the ugly. And this is it. Let's call it off now.