Outcast-3

As he walked home a short while later, Siddharth thought about the contest. He didn’t know any of his teammates but assumed they were good coders. The possibility that they might not be exceptional didn’t even enter his thoughts.

He was weird in this way. He expected that everyone was outstanding in what they did… he could not understand why anyone should want to endorse mediocrity.

Thus he felt that from the lowest sweeper to the CEO of any MNC… everyone was gifted with the one thing they required… skill.

He walked through his own neighborhood as he neared his home. Engrossed in contemplation as he usually was he didn’t notice his acquaintances as they each moved about their own errands. They noticed him though… and marked him for his rudeness.

Siddharth reached his home… unlocked the door and stepped into the familiar gloom… a desolation of his own creation.

His parents both had to travel a lot on account of their jobs… so he was usually left to fend for himself in their empty house. He welcomed the solitude and the opportunity to think it provided him.

More than anything else he welcomed the lack of a need to have idle banters for the sake of social norms… and the pretense of enjoying providing company even when it hampered his work.

He was not a workaholic by any means. He merely had certain things he was passionate about and loved to work on them for indeterminate hours at a stretch. For him taking a break from one of them… meant immersing himself in another.

He freshened up. Even now, so far from the eyes of the world… his movements were still sharp… precise. As if even a single expansive gesture was a luxury his mechanical accuracy couldn’t allow. As if a single empty smile would crack his ever present expression of blankness. There were no frowns, no quizzical looks, and no emotion at all ever to be seen on his features. More than anything else it was a depiction of the human face from the biology book. A perfect rendering without the artist feeling any need to add elements of his own choice… like a vapid stare or a cheerful expression. It was the expression we all have when we sleep and do not dream.

Changing into more comfortable clothes, he dutifully called his parents. A routine event informing them that he was back… and more or less fine. Having answered the usual queries of a loving mother and the enjoying a casual conversation with his light hearted father… he was master of his own leisure at last.

He clearly still had the project on his mind, and thus headed straight for his computer. He decided to gather some details about what he would have to work on before the actual work commenced.

He accessed the site that had the information he was seeking and spent the evening poring over the material. He weighed the different project topics available, to see which would be the most interesting one to work with…. He knew it was foolish to even consider it without having any clue what his team mates would like… but he just couldn’t resist.

He shortlisted a few based on their entertainment quotient as well as which would require the least work. He even considered some that wouldn’t be intellectually taxing at all.

After a while he finally realized that he couldn’t possibly begin working without first having discussed the basics with the members of his team… the first drawback of being in a group.

He stopped and cast his mind around for a distraction.

His eyes rested briefly on his guitar… then on his shelf of books, all unrelated to academics. This in itself was a rarity among most of his age group. Professionalism and utter focus on a career to them meant neglect of anything unrelated… like books, music, sports and hobbies.

Siddharth decided he wasn’t in the mood for music… he decided he didn’t particularly feel like reading either. He decided to write instead.

Siddharth wrote quite frequently, sometimes he wrote just to get away from his uneventful routine… sometimes he wrote when he had things on his mind. Things that moved him…. He was either satirical about his world, or reflective and brooding. He considered how his day had spent… sought for something in it that was worth preserving. And it hit him….

He never wrote on paper. For reasons he could not explain even to himself he much preferred to stow all his writings away and never have them read by people beyond a very select few. Since there was no better way to do this than by using a password protected ms word file… that is what he did.

With the swift keystrokes of a hacker, he was soon on a blank document. Before he began, he encrypted the file and saved it with the current date… to make sure he didn’t lose any data in case of a sudden system crash.

He started typing.

Words flowed smoothly as if he were merely taking down something that was written in front of him. He knew what he wanted to write… all that remained was to phrase them from abject thoughts to clear words… something that came very easily to him.

He paused twice and no more… both times because he noticed that he had made a typographical error. He was done in no time at all.

It was a short poem he had composed. It was no masterpiece… it was simply an adolescents thoughts on a subject. A dozen short verses… that would probably not be read by even twelve people in all. But that did not matter to Siddharth.

He wrote to pen down his thoughts and because he liked to write. He wrote because this was one of the things he derived pleasure out of… one of the things he enjoyed. He reread his lines and smiled….

It was the first smile that had crossed his features throughout the day… and its effect was like the shattering of ice on a frozen lake. In the same manner as the lake’s surface appears hard, unfeeling and black… holding nothing but darkness hidden in its depth… and yet somehow on breaking the crust we find blue, pristine and pure water….

The fittest way to describe the way he had appeared the whole time before this would be to say he was gaunt and impassive. But now, he could hardly be recognized as the same person anymore. The simple smile somehow made him seem far more boyish... filled with life and laughter. Someone untouched by hardships and misfortune…. If only he could wear this smile in public… wear this face all the time….

He read what he had just composed… the tension of the day slipping away as the lines passed through his synapses and elated him for no reason other than… he liked the fact that this was his own creation… his original work. He read the fruit of his own unique creativity silently….

Unmoving and still every single leaf,

Each hushed as if frozen in place,

Yet there was a breeze steadily blowing,

 For I felt it… felt it upon my face.

The scene was complete in a surreal way,

From every aspect you chose…

Aesthetics or depth whichever you saw

Seemed perfect like a dewy rose.

I closed my eyes to heighten the sensation,

And smelled the sweetness of the air,

I savored the golden rays warming my skin,

And felt transported with the wind in my hair.

Though my vision was at rest for now,

Somehow, I could still clearly see

Every ripple on the lake’s silver surface

To me were breakers on the foamy sea.

I sensed the stirring in the leaves overhead,

Felt the tremor run through the grass,

I knew the gust of wind that was coming,

Sensed long before it had come to pass…

Each component here was crucial and necessary

Be it the glittering sun, on the water ahead

It was as important as the calming breeze,

Or even the green foliage that gave me shade

Without any one of these infinite factors,

I have no doubt that the magic would die,

All that remained would be an empty shore…

And some fool with closed eyes standing by.

The peace was sound and soothing at once,

The lullaby of nature in its rawest form,

To one as me, hassled by a tiring existence

It removed my coldness and made me warm.

How long I stood there I cannot say,

Still and unmoving as a statue of stone,

When I opened my eyes slowly again,

The beauty of the view, made me groan.

I had to leave this place of wonder,

I could not outrun my life, how much I tried,

In spite of these little snippets of calm I stole,

There were still rules by which I had to abide.

I turned and walked away from paradise itself,

Nothing in my experience could ever compare,

The beauty and peace of a sunset scene,

Keep calling to me… even in this cool night air.

He decided to title this piece “Sunset” and saved the file accordingly. He briefly considered asking some of his few confidants to peruse it and tell him what they thought of it.

Eventually he decided against it… he read it once more… then closed the file and picked up a battered copy of one of his favorite novels….

The attempt to recount… and perhaps capture a memory worth cherishing seemed to have somehow sapped the lethargy from his bones. Time seemed to lose meaning to Siddharth as he read… the stillness that seemed to accompany him wherever he went seeped in here as well. The only movement was his turning a page every few minutes… everything else was frozen in its place.

He got up after what could have been hours with no hint of fatigue on his face… instead he seemed invigorated by the welcome change. He went to his desk and worked on his assignment due for submission on the following day, every bit a clockwork soldier as ever.

He finished it in no time and threw down his pen. But, this short time spent in what his peers would consider the only productive work he did, had removed that trace of light heartedness that was left over from when he had begun to write.

Now once more he was the unsocial unsmiling creature that had stalked the streets and haunted the classes today.

Siddharth had his dinner… hardly noticing what he ate… his mind clearly preoccupied again with thoughts of the project. He freshened up again and switched off the lights.

As he lay down for the night… the darkness hid the fact that his features underwent no change at all… as he drifted from wakefulness to sleep.

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