Intellectual claustrophobia and the darkness

Being a student in a class that has an average age way above yours can be a problem. Thats when one gets a real sense of generation gap. Everything you say is blasphemous. Mouth ajar, unbelieving eyes stare and mock at your naivety. The idea that I may know/understand things that others may not is again, unthinkable. I have a problem. Intellectual claustrophobia. The need to be open and non-judgmental fades with age I guess. I may fade as well, but for now, the world to me is full of possibilities and lacks boundaries. I am not unethical and immoral. I have different ethics and different morals. My vision is not as coloured as yours. Not as black as yours and certainly not as white as yours.

I want to hold your hand. Feel it crush mine with warmth. With a sense of certainty and security. Lets walk down those yellowed lanes of memory and laugh, if just for once, till our lungs are ablaze with the gush of cold air. Let it be a winter night warmed up by the rising sun. I want to drink that small cup of tea and then drink some more. And more. Over that stone cold slab that has etched our conversations for many seasons to come.

After a very very long time I have laughed out loud while reading a book. Mother Pious Lady. It chronicles events of India. Not the epic, monumental and stupendous events, but the everyday mundane nitty gritties of an Indian life. How it has changed for real and fake. How it might change and will change etc. Its hilarious and nostalgic. I don't want it to finish.

The paints are out and the parchment is still lifeless. I am going to pump it with a colourful life. Let it breathe in the vibgyor and let out a palate of unseen beauty.