Saturday, July 9, 2011

my mind is one selfish son of gun.

A reason, what might actually seem the most sensible at a particular moment, given the coordinates that matrix of life is on, is always almost behind human actions. There lies a story behind my re-location to Hyderabad, away from Cochin, away from the green and the rain, away from the comfort of home and Appa's wallet. I ponder back now, I know the maybe the first initial reason in my mind was naive, a peripheral vision to sound right, to make people believe right. The real reason is not elusive, none other than my friend selfishness, which I always failed to see in my so genuine a gesture of love from the heart, at least so i said aloud.

The necklace road in Hyderabad, which goes around the Hussein Sagar lake, with the giant Buddha statute in between, though holds no special attraction to me, is the picture I have of Hyderabad. It should probably must have been embedded from my first journey to Hyderabad with my family, when I was a kid. We had a picnic lunch, sitting  in the shades of one of those trees planted alongside the necklace road. The memories are so very clear, every time I go to the necklace road, I keep thinking back about the times I have been there.

The picnic lunch makes way for the tables arrayed in 'eat street', where I painstakingly sit listening to my girl friend chat with her cousin brother about someone in their family. Two friends have joined us, my girl friends hostel mate and my flat mate, they have a conversation going about some good movie that is being aired and I nod my head occasionally. Orders were strict before we ventured out, I was to behave as only a friend in front of her cousin and the second one to keep my conversations with her hostel-mate as little as possible. I was getting bored, painstakingly being polite and dying myself every moment. Now that is not one very happy memory to remember, it was like your bladder was full and you had to let out, but you had to hold it for ever. There was never any thinking there but the painful bladder a relation proved. My peripheral self believed, its all in love.

Then I have been there with some people, mostly friends and mostly drunk, drive around smoke a cigarette and come back. I was not very fond of the place, but my friends seems to find the place amusing in the early hours of dawn, and we always drove up there. Then there was nothing bad, I always loved to ride and what better time to rub the tar, so always accompanied. We talked about a movie or a thing, never the place. Maybe someone commented on the Buddha statute, but everything else was always about something else. I always thought about the eat street incident, but never knew why I came to Hyderabad in the first place.

I was the driver back again last night, my favorite entertainment when drunk, and I seriously mean no pun. The farther the distance the better I love it, I love driving back into a city after dropping the friend 5ish in the morning, the rush I feel seeing a city waking up from the sleep, always makes up my day. A new belief to grab on, maybe the believer in me still lives. Then this time, it was my friend and so driving back always an added pleasure, if the companion is a talker, I listen. If the pillion is silent, I try small talk, but then not always. Some are so very dumb or maybe high with the wind, that I don't bother after a couple of probes.

This friend was smart and it was the city, she grew up. She was coming back after a long seven years and a celebration it was indeed which went on for very long coz the combination of friends, paradise biriyani bacardi apple flavored rum and white mischief vodka, and me in the vicinity the 11pm friday got stretched to 4am saturday. The talks were about a city she grew up, about Hyderabad. I listened, that was good, because I was a little thirsty and the drunken brain failed to register of all things there was water in her hand bag, while I kept observing her passion for the city she grew up. The wind felt soothing on me, though a little cold and unlike the comfort of humidity that my skin relishes, the conceited me actually took a beating. I always cribbed about Hyderabad, the senseless drivers, the horrid weather, the lack of green, the dust. But the passion she was talking, made my spirit immersed in spirits, float around as if I am at Maneka, in Cochin. I thought about "eat street girl" and it finally dawned on me, it was my selfishness, which made the move and not the peripheral truth my heart seemed to project or make believe.

Thinking now, I know the reason, why I finally came here, to keep my free reign. She posed a threat to the free reign of my mind and my consciousness or maybe the depth of me, (my Freud relation is very limited, please do forgive me for that) reasoned everything out, moved her out from my home city and did everything necessary to do this. What seemed like an act of love, was indeed an act of selfishness, because she was never me and my interests were protected with the smoke of love. My mind, selfish an truly non-altruistic now I realize , my mind is one selfish son of gun.

3 comments:

  1. You are going all over. It is clear now that "love " is relative and certainly not altruistic!

    ReplyDelete
  2. Dey, dey... Watch the typos...

    ReplyDelete

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