Echoes of a Distant Tide

Prologue: The Introvert loves music. It is her refuge, where she can crawl in the spaces between the notes and forget all her worries. In this post, she describes the train of thoughts when she is hooked to a Pink Floyd number called “Echoes”. Pink Floyd is and will always be on her playlist. Just like Pink Floyd, The Introvert believes that their music has depth, and attempts philosophical thought and meaning with discussions of infinity, eternity and mortality.

"Overhead the albatross hangs motionless upon the air

And deep beneath the rolling waves in labyrinths of coral caves

The echo of a distant tide comes willowing across the sand

And everything is green and submarine."

It begins with the sweet sound of rain drops on the thirsty earth. The effect produced is analogical to that of the petrichor of the first showers of monsoon. The strings are plucked like the gentle care of a mother carrying her newborn child. The rhythmic beats and tweaking of strings, begin to conquer my mind, trying to take over my senses. As I lose control over my body, I feel the notes injecting a drug that is being consumed by every cell. This feeling is like none I have ever felt before. No worldly intoxications have the same prowess of mind control like this tune. I am no longer in this world, neither am I out of it. Quantities like space and time don't apply to me anymore, I feel myself in the space between spaces. Motionless like the albatross he speaks about, I can imagine the labyrinth of the coral caves. Minutes begin to feel like weeks and hours like years. The echoes of my past deeds haunt me like the devil. I can see my entire life flash before me, time travelling through all my highs and lows.

"Strangers passing in the street by chance two separate glances meet

And I am you and what I see is me 

And do I take you by the hand and lead you through the land

And help me understand the best I can."

In a distant past, I see a reflection of a person, the shocking resemblance I have to this stranger, makes me doubt my identity. Both our glances meet, and I realise, what I see is me. This doppelganger, is my existence of a different time, a different era. When I come to understand him, I feel not a semblance of my character matching his. He seems more focused, more passionate and more worthy than me. I am ashamed of my reflection, and I hope I could have taken my alter ego's hand and lead him to a different land, where I would be more proud of my present living. But alas that time has passed and so has the tempo of the groove.  It has become slow, toying with my thoughts and I am lead to a different path, by my ventriloquist, engineering my brains movement with invisible strings.

Suddenly I see an endless beach, white sand everywhere. There are no shores, no life; the horizon is the limit. In the figment of my imagination, I witness the forces manipulating the neural signals in my body. The two magicians with their hypnotic devices are making me dance to their tunes. One of them uses two wooden sticks that he beats on leather and metal to define my rhythm. The other has a six-stringed sonic boom, that numbs my conscience. The next four minutes are ecstatic. The passion and love of these wizards flow through my veins. This divine magic takes me on an emotional ride, making me feel every emotion universally known. I feel the greed to stay in this state of trance forever. There is a new form of energy surging within me, and I can do anything that seemed difficult before. I want to become something in this world, be recognised and my growth shall serve vengeance upon my enemies. Slowly, the power of the magician's spell is dimming. All strength is being sucked out of me; I feel exhausted. I have been dancing too long; I need rest. My eyes close and as the magicians end their spell, I fall into deep slumber. 

"Cloudless every day you fall upon my waking eyes

Inviting and inciting me to rise

And through the window in the wall

Come streaming in on sunlight wings

A million bright ambassadors of morning."

I can't open my eyes fully. The sun is blazing over me, and I have a blurry image of everything around me. I can hear screeches of marine creatures now and then. This cacophony begins to align into a slow melodious beat. A heavy bass sets the tone, and I start getting a clear picture of my surroundings. I'm lying alone, in an abandoned wooden shack. I might have seen this shack once before, in my dreams. The pitch rises every second as if it is set to go off in a while. I get out of the shack, to find myself on the same endless beach, only now, I can see the waves lapping in an oscillatory motion in front of my eyes. The wind is blowing strong, a sweet smell of freedom in it. 

"And no one sings me lullabies

And no one makes me close my eyes

So I throw the windows wide

And call to you across the sky."

Suddenly the beats climax into frantic jangling which gives me the impression of a bird being freed from the clutches of monotonicity. This is when it dawns on me, that this place where I am now, I have no one. Nobody to sing me lullabies, nobody to care for me. I will be so lonely, that all I am,  and all I will ever be, will be witnessed only by the echoes of these distant tides. But secretly, this is what I have wished. Living aloof from all the worries of the world. Being closer to the Creator by living among his greatest creations. Knowing this, I feel at peace, more enlightened than ever. I feel there is nothing left to accomplish. My mind is empty, like the colour of the sands. I can again hear the sound of the raindrops. I am weightless. My soul rises high; it begins to disintegrate into the soothing rhythms. I feel myself drowning in the sounds, only to be a part of the never-ending echo.

Amaranthine Existence

Prologue: "Amaranthine" has two meanings, one of which is a colour and the other is Undying or Unfading. These are diary entries by Rudiger Smoot, who is The Introvert's creation. Rudy is based on her Alter-Ego close friend and this post is part of a series, Rudy's Chronicles, which shares glimpses of how an Introverted Mind thinks.

Diary Entry #146: 3rd February

It was twilight, the time when the sky was the canvas and mother nature the artist. She smeared different shades of red & orange as the sands of time steadily dropped. He was there, witnessing the creation of her masterpiece, in complete awe of her talent. Rudy would always visit the end of the city when he felt like having a conversation in silence. There weren't many people at this time of the day. Rudy seated himself on his slippers, avoiding soiling his jeans. He sat there idyllically staring at the waves, lost in thought. His daydreaming was broken by the cold water lapping his feet; the tides were rising. The waves were just like little disobedient children being pulled by their mother to take them home.

Home Rudy reminisced. He had a smile on his face thinking about this. He hadn't had such a curve on his face since a long time. It was one, filled with true happiness, from the inner chambers of his heart. He knew he loved everyone back home, however difficult they were to live with. He saw a boat leave the shore, on it was a man waving back at his family, a wife, a young son & a baby daughter. He would probably never see them again, delving into the heart of the ocean, facing unknown dangers, but, like everyone else, he hoped. He hoped to come back and feel the warmth of his wife once again. He wished to see his children grow old, get married and get on with their journey in life. Hope Rudy derided. He of all people knew how treacherous it was clinging to hope. The only thing greater than fear he thought.

He turned his gaze back to the waves. They continued oscillating, never giving up, always trying to meet the land, rising every time they fell. Rudiger had loved beaches as a child, and he could relate to them, talk to them and share all his emotions with them, without uttering a word. He was not great with people; he preferred inanimate objects. Often, he would discuss his turmoils with his car, earphones or even his pillow. This would always astound the people around him eventually deeming him to be off his rocker. Rudy, on the other hand, was inured to their judgements. They weren't important, he thought, every time. He loved his songs in his playlist, they never judged him. They were his partners in crime, complementing his whims, by his side for every tricky bend in his life. He plugged his earphones & debauched in the tunes of ecstasy.

The sun was almost engulfed by the ocean; it was beginning to get dark. He saw a flock of birds forming perfect geometric shapes, flying back to their nests. He looked around; people began filling parts of the beach, encroaching his solitary. A young teen approached Rudy, prodding him to buy a few balloons from him. He could have been the next billionaire if luck had favoured him to be born into a better family. Maybe the boy wanted to do something other than selling balloons; maybe he wanted to be a singer, maybe he wanted to be a writer or maybe he wanted to be a dictator. Rudy reached for his wallet, took out a note of the highest denomination and handed it to the kid. He took all the balloons and told him to enjoy his day.

Just then his phone rang. He answered it, listened carefully, muttered a few words and said: "I'll be there". Rudy decided to listen to his favourite song as a parting gift. He realised he had to head back to his promotion party; everyone was waiting for him. A part of him wanted to stay back, enjoy this amaranthine existence of himself, but he knew that sometimes social obligations must be fulfilled to survive in the muck of the world. The song was over.

He rose to his feet, rolled his earphones and prepared himself for the perfunctory performance he was about to give. He put on his fake mask that he used in the world, practised his feigned smiles until he was satisfied and began walking along the shore. He looked up at the sky; it was black with a tinge of dark blue. The diamonds of the sky had come out of hiding, twinkling personifying jubilance. Rudy envied them; they were immortal. They were happy. They were far away from humankind, he concluded. As he walked, he noticed his footprints being washed away by those waves. Rudy smiled, not the one he practised; he knew how similar his footprints were to his existence at the beach. It would be written & forgotten, for nobody to read, nobody to see, forever preserved in the chapters of time. Undying. Unfading.

Straight Through The Curves

Prologue: The Introvert believes that 'Guilt' is a powerful emotion. She writes a story about a guilty man, who pleads for forgiveness of a woman. A woman who reminds him of the past. A past that cannot be altered. This note is a figment of The Introvert's thoughts.

The clouds above roared like a lion. It had been raining cats and dogs for the past 2 hours. I sped my car through the torrential deluge; I was awfully late. The headlights weren't strong enough to limn the road; I barely managed to stay on track. I used to love the rains as a child, but once they poured with such vigour, that everything I had, was washed away. It was painful to be nostalgic of those memories, I snapped myself out of my anguish and focused on the blurry outline of the roads. After driving for a few minutes, my navigator asserted, "In 200 meters your destination will be on the left." I parked the car by the kerb, turned the ignition off and got out with my umbrella. I stood in front of a huge wrought iron gate with over 10 feet walls on either side. The guard on duty greeted me and asked, "You had to come even in this rain?" "I had to, there's nobody other than her I have in my life", I replied while signing the visitor's roster. The guard gave me a sad smile, handed me the pass and buzzed the electric doors to let me in.

I followed the long hallway up to the visitor's room where I requested the nurse for a short meeting. She seemed vexed at my request, arguing that visiting hours would end in another 10 minutes. I begged her to allow this visit, promising to be on time in the future. She instructed me to wait in the adjacent common room and unwillingly left. The common room was small consisting a small television for entertainment and a few indoor games for the people housed in the building. It was gloomy and dingy. At this hour, I could see only a motley of old and haggard people. They sat there, defeated by life, waiting for the inevitable. Occasionally needing somebody's support to perform their daily chores, requiring constant prodding, sometimes even harsh measures, to take their medications. These deranged souls were not felicitous to live among the civilised insanity of the world and hence, were kept at arm's length from it. This place, these living conditions, I never liked them, but it has been five years since I started these weekly visits, and over time I have gotten used to them.

The nurse opened the door, and I saw her come in with an old lady, feeble, walking slowly maintaining her balance using the nurse. I helped the nurse get the lady on a chair. The nurse warned me about the time constraint and left us. I looked at the woman in front of me; she had grown old, her once beautiful features fading behind the wrinkles and deep lines. Her pensive eyes were not focusing on anything in particular as if she were lost in some deep thought. She was alive, yet her soul was dead. She was human, yet there was nothing humane about her.

I sat on the chair across her, smiled awkwardly and said, "Hello Sam!" That's what I always used to call her. There was no reply. "Do you know what day is it?" She didn't budge an inch. She always took pride in the way she dressed, clean and impressive. "First impression is the last impression", she used to boast. Today, the clothes she was wearing were ragged and dirty. Her hair unkempt, with a tinge of grey in them. Time had taken a toll on her. I took her hands in mine; they were rough. I could feel my throat swell, the pain of watching her this way was unbearable. "I want you at your best to impress my colleagues," I said getting ready for an office party years ago. "Yes sweety, I just have to buy Kohl. I know you love it when I wear it and I'd do anything for you John!" she said, kissing my forehead, as she finished buttoning my shirt. Her eyes were sapphire blue but didn't have the dark Kohl. Instead, I could only see the agony in them. After a few moments, she looked straight into my eyes, and almost whispered, "Where is Joshua? Where is my son? Why didn't you get him along?" She hadn't forgotten him. He was her life, she had nurtured him with all her love and pride, but that year when she lost him, something within her died too. I couldn't hold my tears too long. I cried there, right in front of her, yet she had no remorse. She kept questioning, "Where is Joshua? Did he have homework to complete?" I hugged her tightly and sobbed like a baby.

I wish I could answer her questions, but I had none. She frantically broke free from me and began screaming as if she had realised something. "You killed him, didn't you!!! You killed my Joshua!! Go away!!! I hate you!!" The nurse and a ward boy barged into the room on hearing the wails. They tried to calm her down and hold her, but she struggled vehemently. The nurse ordered me to leave at once as she prepared to inject Sam with a sedative. I couldn't bear to see any more, I turned around and began to leave. Sam continued her diatribe against me, "You murderer!! Why are you even alive!! It should have been you, not my Joshua!!"

I ran across the hallway to the gate and then to the road where I had left my car. I sat in the car, motionless, tears still streaming down my cheeks. The mention of Joshua brought those agonizing memories back. I remember that day, five years back, when Sam had asked me to pick Josh from school. It was one of the heaviest rains the city had ever witnessed; it was a cloud burst. Every route was flooded, and the city had come to a stand still. The road outside his school was submerged in water, waist deep. Umbrella in one hand and my 10-year-old son in the other, I tripped over an open manhole. The currents of the water were too strong, and I lost my balance. I fell into the muddy water, but before I could regain my footing, I had lost Josh. I searched for my little kid the whole night, the fear of losing him, turning into a reality every passing second. Next morning, when the water had drained, I found his cold body, lying still in a corner. I tried to wake him up, called out his name several times but he did not repond. Joshua was no more. 

The sight of her only son's corpse was too horrific for her to bear. The agony had taken over her mind, there was nothing left in it. She did not shed a tear nor lambaste the heavens for stealing her son. Everday after that, she sat idly at the doorstep looking out eagerly for Joshua to return from school. I realised that she could never again be the beloved wife she was to me once. That day, I had lost Sam as well.

Sam's words kept repeating in my head, "It should have been you!!" as I sat crying even more, wishing it was me. I had become so poor in life that all I had was money. I lived alone in the city now. I made weekly visits to meet the only person I love in this world, but she wasn't the same. It was I who snatched her Joshua from this world, so she believed! I had hoped that Samantha would forgive me today, on the occasion of our 17th wedding anniversary, but this too has met the same fate as the previous five. I wiped my tears, took a deep breath, and started the ignition. The rain had receded now, but the road was slippery down the hill. One had to be careful while turning those sharp curves. For me, however, that didn't matter, because I was just going to drive straight through them!