It’s exactly 1:00 am. The Vedant whom people know has just gone to sleep after texting a friend that he needs to go. He knows she’s a little bit upset that the convo full stopped so soon, and so is he, when a part wanted to carry on the convo. But the sentimental guy, the wanna-be writer, philosopher, the feelings wala retard has risen from sleep, to begin his reign, and coexisting would lead to bipolarity as is the usual.
Vacations have begun. Holidays. And, no one is free. Free as in freedom. Humans still sleep at night, wake up in the morning, not realising they’ve slept the all through the dawn of life. Time binds, and fucks all. Rapes us, literally. And we barely realise the univeral fact.
I prepare myself a strong cup of black coffee, along with whatever snack I could manage. And Then, from the tiring kingdom of the kitchen, I march out with courage, armed with a full tumbler and a bowl to reclaim my throne, which is padded and has wheels to commute. The one that awaits his Lord while standing in front of the study table piled with books and novels of all sorts but neat.
Oh damn! I forgot to tell y’all. This Vedant, the nocturnal one, is the king of his world, not bounded by the chains of time, the invisible cuffs of the society, and neither is burdened by pointless expectations and ethics. His world is his world. The world, that he destroys every morning at 5, and enlivens at 12 each night, is his escape to dreams and fantasies he thrives to turn into reality.
I haven’t written anything in the past week, owing to my inability to keep the eyes open when I know its school the next day. I sip the black potion and sit back, to let my brain wander to the land where the pasture would satisfy this night-up. Nothing!
I open Instagram, and scroll randomly. Within minutes, I’m stalking people I shouldn’t name. Yes, oh judge me please! Thousands thoughts rush in once you see people you admire, agree? I keep back my phone, and choose one thought of the stampede.
2:51 am – The title I ink on the sheet in front of me reads – Heartbreaks are Beautiful. On reaching my 7th sip, I see I’ve already jotted two paragraphs, but can’t proceed. No, not afraid of ruffling feathers but extra cautious while choosing my words. Worried, the person might get the hint it’s inspired from their life.
An hour passes but worry still resides in my head. I resort to give up tonight, again, on the topic and pick up Grisham’s The Litigators. Fir Kabhi, ya shayad kal Raat! They were right, reading is the thing to chase when words leave your side.
4:54 am – The coffee mug is a drought land, the snack is half digested, and the time of the destruction of this world has also come. Reluctantly, the earphones are pulled out.
Good Night from the Sentimental Guy!
Good Morning from Vedant!