~My Corner, My Space~

Frantic. Frenzied. Flurrying. I can soundly vouch that life for every board student would have deviously swivelled into a similar order of words; and when these undulating tides of fate vociferously clang into the namby-pamby jetties of our life, all that ignorance which we feign shatters and words like Davies’ come to mind…”WHAT is this life if, full of care, We have no time to stand and stare? No time to stand beneath the boughs, and stare as long as sheep and cows…”

So, pitted under the servility of class 10, when I come grimacing home, there is but one leeway where I can (thankfully) seek solace- where all the ignominious double-math lessons give way to plain introspection. Complete serendipity indeed! Where, engulfed by the puissant sanctity of foliage and the invigorating chirps of little garden birds, I can selflessly plunge into my sphere, a place tucked away in complete secrecy, impermeable, immune to everyone but myself.

Surprisingly, I speak not of a magniloquent chamber or one that is pretentious in any regard. I speak of an area adjacent to our dining place, unfrequented, just a wrought iron swing, 2 dim lights, flanked by an array of cacti, and bristling floral plumage! The place to be when I’m down and out, or hurt and saddened by reel and rout, or stumped, entwined in nervous wreck, demeaned, despised…a ridiculed speck…

Amazingly, just swinging too and fro, splurged into my sphere, reading Shakespeare, writing poetry, doing tarot or reciting verse to the whisking gusts conjures a feeling of nonchalance- rejuvenating-holy-exhilarating! I am able to connect up with myself wholeheartedly!

While I’m in my expanse, my volume, I feel like a defunct radio set…sans frequency, yet so reverberant in the white noice, as if I am no son, grandchild, student or friend but an aimless drifter, a helmsman in the desert, a tradesman in the tavern, a resilient human being- Nikhil- ONE.