Filius Quasimodo
By squashing my dreams brutally,I saw my dreams come true
While at home for vacation, I found an old diary that I had kept years back . Going through the pages, I found this on its last page.
“I lived on my dreams, rather than making them live!”
I switched the fan off and sat on the floor. Somebody in the neighbourhood is playing ‘Pink Floyd’. David Gilmour’s guitar solo literally made me cry. I heard them sing along , ‘ … the boy is grown.the dream is gone. I have become comfortably numb’. Was that an omen meant for me ? I felt totally uncomfortable. I sneaked out of my room to sip a cup of tea.
Richard Feynman. Albert Camus. Jimmy Page. I had always dreamt of becoming one like them. Back in college, it never looked hard. But now that I am out of college, jobless and penniless, I don’t see it going anywhere. ( Now that would be wrong — I really do see my future cruising towards the tip of the iceberg that once sank the Titanic !!).
But, maybe I still have a chance, if only I could figure out where I went wrong.
Where did I go wrong?
Books have had a great influence on me.I still have a small collection of books; too small to be called a library. Glancing through the pages, reading the reviews and footnotes I had made as a teenage boy, an awareness of the amount of time and effort I had invested in personal development,and yet how broke I have become, struck me badly — a cold chill ran through my nerves and spine. I was aghast — An identity crisis.
I was greatly influenced by the works of Victor Hugo . Although I cannot recollect every aspect of ' The Hunchback of Notre Dame ' or 'The Last Day of a Condemned Man ', they certainly made an impact in me.
I had interpreted the protagonist in all these novels to be a victim. I was even influenced to such levels where I was unwilling to consider any character who do not lose a game in life or give up opportunities wholeheartedly for someone else, a protagonist.
As I grew up, I always wanted to be the protagonist.
I tried to recreate Quasimodo. I searched everywhere for Esmeralda.
I latched the doors of my room from inside and sat alone in complete isolation to see the world through the eyes of the protagonist of 'The Last Days of a Condemned Man’.
By squashing my dreams brutally, I saw my dreams come true.
Maybe it’s time for the Quasimodo inside me to die. Maybe it’s time for someone else to take up that place.
I will call him Filius Quasimodo — son of Quasimodo .
I can learn to see the world through him — the world that has so far remained hidden to me — recreating and renewing everything that I once failed to handle.
The clock is ticking again. I still can take things up from where I stopped.
It has started to drizzle slightly. I unfolded my umbrella and slowly started to walk all the way back home. While walking ,I was thinking of Filius Quasimodo and how significant he is to my new life.
But what if the clock doesn't tick any more??
"Oh come on......tap it twice!!
It will start to tick again.
What else can the poor little clock possibly do??
I better hurry. I have a long way to go - both literally and figuratively ," I said to myself as I hurried down the road.
