Anhedonia-ad-infinitum

There won't be a plethora of posts. I promise. 

Just this. Today while walking back home, I missed seeing the fat middle aged professor walking the other way. He was bald, and wore a constant expression on his face. Eyes, which from a distance looked obviously content and old. But they must have been dull and empty when stared into. There wasn't another soul around his. You know what I mean. He taught a class that didn't give a damn. His wife had left him a few years ago. The children left with her. Some said his mind was sick. The reasons behind him being that absolutely alone were never discovered. He died some days ago. Some said he killed himself. He could have. Very much could have. The way he was stuck in his bathroom door. Don't know who came to his funeral. There must have been one.

The other day. A few months ago. I was staring at pumpkin creepers. In faint moonlight. On the other side of the valley, between two hillocks. You know what I mean. Under pines. It must have been a cold night. Who cared. I didn't. Under layers of wool, I felt the safest. Farthest from fear. Assured that nothing would go wrong. Ever. It was like forever was enclosed in those few minutes after midnight. Do you remember? Something was glowing between those pumpkin creepers. It couldn't have been a lamp or a candle. It was to faint to be earthly. So I stared on, and listened to you talk. Half conscious. Wondering if there was a ghost in there. And then getting back to you and saying yeah yeah, I heard it all.

Extremes, no? I ain't crazy. Semi-crazy may be. There won't be a plethora of posts, I promise. Just this.


4 comments:

Surya Prakash V said...
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Surya Prakash V said...
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Surya Prakash V said...

:(

Raj said...

let there be a plethora of posts. this is where you are allowed to be you regardless of what anyone says remember? :)