The Transformation3 mins 9.0K 3 mins 9.0K
It has always been eerie to stay alone. A girl who was brought up with noises taking the form of sound, laughs and giggles just a jiffy away, care never crossing beyond, there was always an invisible halo above. The worth of which is always valued in absence.
Isolation was never on the stands, like it or not there was someone to pester you for unknown reasons. Be it at work, that moment you struggle to finish and get home for the day, when your friend pings you and you are exactly done for the day with just the same to-do list of today for tomorrow. And at home when you sit with your favourite book and a cup of tea, or a movie with fries, you have your calling bell ring and none of your people nudge to open the door. That moment of cha, was utterly annoying then, priceless now.
They name it settling in life, meaning moving away from all those little acts that made you chortle and staying stupid bounded by no bounds. The way life handles you, growth is all that you wish at those rough edges, exactly when you didn't know how much maturity is gonna cost you. It's not just that you have got to bend, but make sure to not break yourself or rather people around you. Beacuse it affects your life anyway. Adapt is the biggest moral in every girl's chapter of life. You excel with that lesson, you win anyone over. I would never disagree that, en route you do lose a lot of being you, with a pasted smile on your face.
The realization that strikes is that not always isolation is a demon, rather disguised as a demon. Just like blurred vision made bright by wiping the haze around the rims, a few facts come closer to perception. Not always will someone go along with you. You were born alone, you will die a loner. (Not to quote twins by birth ). The journey and the people you choose to be with, is always a gambling game. Growth means the people you walk by and the experiences you get going with. Doesn't come as a choice with most of the girls, just take the route as your mommy did.
Now the drops that pour forever, as if they entwine with my agony of isolation, takes a turn, when I hear the cows mooing, cuckoo and parrots sing along with the squealing of other creatures. A couch near an open corridor, eyes wet, yet ears wide open to the consolation that every little droplet puts forth. Finding its space on the ground, it narrates the story on how it travelled the distance from the clash of the clouds to the very mother earth, even if accompanied by a lot of other droplets, it was always a journey alone.