If loneliness could ever go about in the darkness of the night, it would assume my name and identity. It would swirl in the winds and kiss the breath of nothingness that surrounds everything. It would sing songs that no one can sing along with, for in quietness of its mind, a million melodies are born and none are privy to its secrets.

I wonder how cruelty takes over a person. I wonder how it kisses the thoughts of a numbing mind and makes it its own. I wonder.

I wonder because I have no answer. I don’t want a psychological answer, neither do I want a biological one. I need a humane answer. I need to understand how any person can hurt another living being and live.

My sudden wonder stems from an incident at my alma mater. Someone poisoned 4 dogs in the dead of the night resulting in the death of one and serious health issues in the other three. They would have been dead too if not for the wonderful humans who love them and took care of them.

The first thought that came into my head when I read about the incident was that I want to inflict as much pain to the culprit as he or she did to the dogs. Does that make me as bad as the person who poisoned the dog? My rationale is that my loved ones were hurt, killed. What is their rationale? What possible excuse did they give themselves while poisoning the innocent dogs who have been in the campus probably longer than they have. They are loved, they are cherished and even if they were not, who gives anyone the right to take another life?

Every day I find something to cringe at, something to feel awful about, and something that makes me wonder about humanity as a whole. Every day I tell myself shit happens. Is that the way we are going to be? Are we going to tell our children that shit happens? Move on? Are we going to be the harbingers of pathetic philosophies where cruelty is a given?

Even as I write these things down, I realise all I was able to do after the incident was write my feelings down. That makes me feel awful. And shit happens. 

Another forkful of rice. Chew. Gulp. Sigh.

She mechanically finished eating the plate of rice that she had so unceremoniously mixed with the egg curry. Her stomach would stop troubling her now. It was fed. Her mind was another matter.

She had woken up late. The previous night had been tough. She remembered in bits and pieces the sound of her crying and her heart pounding against her chest. She remembered the dreadful feeling she had at one point. She had felt suicidal. She was afraid of what her mind was capable of.

She hadn’t had a fight. She wasn’t sad. She just had a lump in her chest and felt like the world was closing in on her. She knew her psychological troubles would catch up to her from time to time. She just did not know that they would not give her any warning. Or that she would feel so broken after each episode.

The night before, during the constricted breathing and sounds of crying, she had wanted to hold the neighbour’s dog close to her. Suddenly it felt like the dog would be the solution. She likes dogs; the undivided attention they gave her. The look on their faces when she petted them. The warmth of their attempted hugs. At that moment, she felt like the dog could do wonders. It was 2 in the night. Not practical to wake the neighbours.

Right now sitting at her desk, putting forks full of rice in her mouth, she was thinking of the neighbour’s dog again.

She could not breathe. Felt suffocated sitting there on her chair pretending to work when her mind was swirling with words that could not possibly make up coherent sentences. She needed a break. She needed breathing space. She was suffocating internally, and did not know what would help.

She just knew that the urge to run away was constantly on the brink of taking hold of her. She did not where she would run to. She just knew she did not like being in the cramped space her life provided her at the moment.

People tried talking to her. All she heard were words that bounced off her. She could feel them sliding off the wall she had build around her consciousness. She nodded, smiled and sometimes appropriately frowned. Don’t worry they said, it’ll be fine. She wanted to scream.

Her mind was its own demons. She had no idea how she could be thinking and feeling so many things at the same time. However, somehow her mind accommodated all her ill bodings and depressive thoughts. They were haphazard. They were sinister. She wanted to scream louder.

Her legs were twitching, so was her consciousness. She wanted with all her might to pass out. To be in a state of oblivion where nothing would bother her. She hadn’t felt the need to be left alone in a long while. She knew it would not make the problems go away. She still wanted to breathe more than anything else.

for him...

Alone in a crowd of smoke
Smokes and ladders to nowhere in particular
Just smitten by a desire
to be somewhere that is not here

Here I am without you,
Not somewhere I would want to be

She was happy. She did not know whether it was the view of the mountains or the rocks that beckoned her. She was also mesmerised by the sea that kept trying to lick her feet. She thought it was the best pet she could wish for. It was constant; it had a promise of being there. Changing its moods but never changing in its inherent nature of just coming back to get more of you.

What surprised her most was the fact that she was happy. She still had those lingering doubts and tensions in the back of her mind, but nature had taken those and shoved them far up their behinds. She was one with the sky that she gazed at. The vulture that circled the sky was flying just beside her. Yes she was flying; flying with all her might. And she did not even have to close her eyes for it.

The vacation had done wonders for her psyche. All the muck that she had carried around with her seemed to have washed away with the sand that the sea kept eating up. The rocks she sat on to caress the sea seemed like home. She wondered why people ever loved going to malls and concrete buildings. This is where poems are made. This is where prose is built. The foundations of all creations can be found amongst the flawed and perfect things around her at that moment.

The place reminded her of who she was. She could think of poetry again. She remembered who she stood for and what her life meant to her. It reinforced the urgency of love in her; the importance of loved ones and the creativity that lingered in her senses all the time.

She was at home. She was going to be back for sure. 

Ankles sore from walking the mile,
Heart beats thump at intervals;
We commence our journey,
Stop at pitfalls,
Walk on where the sun stops burning.