Carrying junk is such a bad habit of mine. As I looked in my purse, I found an entry pass to Sindhudurg fort; a calling card of Barati, a Chennai based call taxi company; a train ticket from Belur to Ambika Kalna, travelled on October 2007; a gate pass issued by the hostel superintendent of Narendrapur Ramakrishna Mission; a bus ticket of IIT Madras; a movie ticket, which I went with a friend, whom I lost due to my callousness; a small chit of paper, that consists of a poem written by a very good friend of mine, whom I lost due to my being so callous; two 25 paise coins, which are practically useless now, but kept with utmost care. Well, I am getting to these.
I don’t like Werner Heisenberg & Einstein. It is all because of them, that I could never organise the particles around me.
I tried to synchronize myself with the reference system. To do that I needed to identify events,which are in harmony. And to measure the simultaneity of events separated in space, one necessarily require involving speed of light. That is absurd!
And you know, you can never measure the position and momentum of even a tiny electron with accurate precision. How are you then going to do that for your life?
So, I changed the parameters. Instead of momentum, I introduced time. I guess moments, in any set of mind, tend to run away. But as you hate Einstein and his theory of relativity, the concept of time dilation comes very easy to common mind. On certain dilated afternoons, I picked up elements that I shouldn’t have. I remembered to exact precision what the reaction of our other four companions was when my friend recited that poem during a long train journey or the words that the same friend had said while handing me those two 25 paisa coins, which I wish not to spend ever.
Probably by nature we defy change. And I guess elements of life always tend to run away from the point of origin. It is some time now that with blurred precision I remember why I used to love anybody whom I loved. As I now touch the coins, I roughly estimate the value of them on a predetermined perception, lacking heavily the exact knowledge of the feeling I used to have. Initially for a few days, I was so restless knowing what I did let go. But as time slowly soothes down my anxiety and I pause to cherish a puff of smoke and reflect upon my activities that seem insane from today’s perspective, I don’t know whether I always need to tinge the canvas with a droplet of pathos, I do not feel anything. I go to my mirror, gently touch the cold glass. But I do not ask anything.
(Title is the same of one of my most favorite songs by Death Cab for Cutie)
