I believe people misread loneliness. Why? Because sometimes, in life, all you have is your own company. I doubt if anybody is a born loner. The people you love, probably, make you one.
I, Mrinalni Biswas, am standing here on the balcony right now, all alone. Nobody's there. As if them being here would have made any difference. Actually if you think you're suffering from loneliness, let me tell you, having people, devoid of concern, around would make it even worse.
But trust me, it's not a disease. Loneliness is addiction. You can find solace in it. Like I do. When my husband and kids are around, I feel lost. Them not showing me respect used to smother my self-esteem. Their ignorance would singe my soul. And then I would ask myself, what's my fault? Where did I fall short?
Years passed. My hair turned grey. But the answer still eluded me.
Then one fine afternoon I brewed a cup of tea and came out on the balcony. My eyes wandered aimlessly. I leaned against the wall. A cool breeze brushed my face. The strands of hair on my face fluttered. I untied my bun and let my hair loose. Leaning over the balcony, I inhaled the air. Strangely, it smelt of a very old fragrance. I couldn't recollect. A Cuckoo sang, sitting on a tree in the distance. And it reminded me of a song. A song composed by me long back. Music had always been my passion. And I, in the process of proving my worth, had left it long behind.
I started humming. Half the lyrics had faded from my memory. But it filled my heart with joy as I penned down some new lines. The tune blended into the air. The loneliness became my sole companion. The diary, the pen, the cup of tea turned into my lone listeners.