The City that You Will Never Love. Or Will You?
I, a well rooted lazy existence, wonder how it is to be brought up in a different city!!! Do you feel like a fallen grace? Is there any advantages to be an outcast?
You can stay away from the filth, no need to be burdened by city’s deformities. All may go to hell. Let me earn my bread, and six hours bed. A three hour rom-com for a break too.
What if you love your such reckless presence? Giving no care to the place where you walk, run, sleep, spit and start the drill once more from Monday. Yes, you hate to live here, you say yourself to mirror on Saturday night.
But, what if you have warm feeling for the city? You have not been just brought up there but you blossom there with your own idiosyncrasies. So, you care the dents that the city sports. You stop at the hole and take a picture and give your best to make it viral.
Sunday evening. A much needed stroll in the park. A grin towards the old neighbor. Wait, do you love this rotten city? Never, says your dark black eyes under its deep kohl safely withholding long grown anguish.
I, living in a dark room at my beloved city, wonder all that. I think about you, your city, your late nights, your clueless nocturne. Everything.
An afternoon weekend lane, the loneliness of it, the feeling to be deserted in a hot summer amid congested traffic- how is it to stay in a city, encounter all of the sounds, sights, smells which are not yours?
Or, it is yours?
But, time is a cruel catalyst. With constant simultaneous existence, you and your city too have been able to bridge a cold relationship with occasional warmth.
Remember the last winter rain. Your so called bitter city surprised you then. You longed to drench but your mind won the battle over heart. The city too looked defeated on that day. It was all she could do for you, on your another off day in your posh office.
Your long hair catches the parting sun, your solitary friend in that melancholic city. Your canvas sucks all the dust sprayed by your disturbing city. You do not belong here. You want to say adieu. You want to fly. Anywhere but far from this rotten place.
And amid all your bitterness, there comes one day, when you get welcomed by city’s sudden breeze, in your another solitary evening. You halted for a moment. You think once. Revised your feeling for your city. To be or not to be, you mull once, only to decline it forever when a sudden storm from far east untangle your hair. You hate rain. Your city played a wrong move.
Sigh of relief for you. Changing decision is tough, you welcome back your bitterness.