K Inspired Works

To Be Alone   by Kumar R Shrestha Ó The Quest

It was hot and humid even inside the apartment. The organism could not find plenty air to breathe. The sun shone fiercely in the clear, azure sky. The city moved in a hurry and cars raced past the pedestrians waiting to cross the street. One had to be in this beach or that mountain to appreciate this bright day. It was a pity not to do that. Slowly, the city emptied itself. The sun grew fiercer and the air grew thicker. One preferred to close the windows to keep away the heat.

We love to be part of the crowd. Our identity, as an individual, may as well be lost but we'd rather not be by ourselves. Non-conformity is a social disgrace. The security of conformity is too warm to stand out alone and be that solitary tree in the middle of the mustard field.

Through the window glass, one could see the trees that lined the street across your room. That greenery was relief to your eyes. One saw that they longed for water - the heat had dried the soil. It had not rained for weeks. Yet there were no clouds in sight. The summer was coming to its end and the people were worried about their tan wearing off. Most were still on holidays and the working days were nearing. Soon the days would get shorter and the leaves would change their colour. It was a grace to see this day. One was grateful for this and for that which was not.

Solitude is the penance of the ascetics. Silence is the voice of the mute. How we love to drown in the noise of this worldliness! Noise is the quality of our mind. Our thoughts are outcomes of its grindings and we, slaves of all this. Never have we known solitude nor have we ever touched silence. Beauty can be as dangerous as one who is alone, yet it dies out
in the crowd. The beauty of life has remained with that red ball of fire sinking down in the west. We, unfortunately, have never sat on the top of a hill and watched the glory of a sunset.

As night fell, the heat dissipated. When one opened the window, cool wind rushed in. The sky was still cloudless but hazy. One could see a star or two. On the street, cars darted to other destinations. Some honked to pass first. Night was young for some while the elders of the neighbourhood tossed in their beds. The leaves of the trees shone with a strange green in the harsh glare of the street lamps. These trees longed to hide themselves in the dark but it was impossible to find this space.

To be alone needs a lot of passion. To be alone, one has to be with that cruel sun in that cloudless sky. One has to get thirsty with that parching plant and fall with its dried leaf. One has to get crushed with that small snake crossing the road for some cool shade. To be alone, one has to leave alone that speeding car that has reached the crowded beach while it is miles distant. To be alone is not of this world. One needs to step out of it in order to be alone.