The Block

Sometimes, I have a block. Not a writer’s block but something more. It’s something that blocks feelings, ideas, emotions and creativity. I can not think or perceive. Days are spent in an order of monotony which I can’t break. It’s like being under a sedative, a slumber which is bound to break but with a struggle.

I was feeling very restless for some days. As if I was missing something, forgetting something. Yes, I am missing some of my friends. I am missing my daily routine of studying. May be even the pressure at times. Still, this restlessness I am sure has some deeper roots.

For me, it’s easy to be distracted. And being distracted is what I have done since my exams got over… I have met friends, gone out, met new people, read books, watched a lot of movies and yes, heard some music. Television, playing with my sister... I am not too old for the word playing and never will be. Distractions, easy.

Often I have questioned myself. What am I supposed to do with all this time? It is after all my free time. Then, why this restlessness almost as if guilt. Should I be doing something else? Have I despite myself, started believing fun is taboo? Do I like pressure now? All these thoughts accumulate in my subconscious. As I said, distractions are easy. And then the break in the monotony tries to come up. Instead of facebook, I decide to go for a walk. I go, walk for sometime, till I reach my favourite park.

Its quiet there and dark. The way I like it. It also has swings as to why it’s my favourite. I am upset. During the day, what all I had hoped for did not work out quite as I would have liked it to. And I sit in the park thinking. I realize that perhaps, I am lonely. All my friends are away, and there is no one more than a friend. I am unhappy too. Cause like a child I have never learnt that in the real world, hopes are dashed. I am irritated with myself for believing in childishness. And I am 19 for god’s sake and may be I should try to grow up.

The swing beckons to me. After all if I am the child I say, I wouldn’t mind. I go and sit there. I use my feet to push myself backward. Just like we all did or do still. And then the monotonous ‘point your feet backward while going back’ and ‘point it outwards when going forward’ takes over. The desire to let the million of voices in my head demanding for answers die, takes over. The monotony of physical exhaustion, the mindless action takes over. Forward backward, push and pull. I feel the wind on my face and try not to think of anything else. And you know what, I succeed. I close my eyes as I touch higher and higher speeds. The wind rushes faster. I push myself back as much as I can without losing the grip. My eyes are closed and only the rhythm and the wind tell me that I a gliding. What if, I am flying? Who cares? For all I know, this could be heaven.

And then I open my eyes with a jerk. Déjà vu. I feel something momentarily as I see the ground rushing up. I don’t know what it is? The thought, the emotion or the action which repeated itself. I wonder if I am remembering this from a dream. The panic and the subdued voices return. Much louder in the sudden absence of silence. The block is gone. And the rampage starts. Insecurities, betrayals, love, happiness friendship, career, fear, everything returns with colossal strength. I am still swinging but confused, shocked.

I try to slow myself down, mentally and physically. Physically more. May be if I am exhausted enough, I would have some peace. The swing slows down to a level, I jump off. Off balance, staggering I go sit. I miss a hug only a best friend could give. All the tension of the past few days, months and years roil over me in waves. Desperately, I am still looking for something to end this, something to soothe me. I don’t feel like crying. It hardly seems appropriate. I sit, fidget with my phone, trying to call him. He is busy. No phone hugs either it seems.

Then what, wait. Time is the only thing whose nature is constant. It passes. With sheer exhaustion at the havoc which they wreaked, the voices die. For now, the block is back. Some days of blissful monotony are back. At least for a few days, while I remember the exhaustion and havoc and seek refuge in monotony. Till I forget and hate it. The cycle has begun. It too, is constant. Companion of time. Sometimes, when neither the exhaustion nor the pain rule, I enjoy little spaces of sunshine in my brain. And then in these meadows of sanity, I look for answers. Often though I do wonder, whether time and this cycle were meaningful without each other?

As I go back home, walking by the roads that I remember from the very beginning of consciousness, that may be some answers were salvaged. The déjà vu was this cycle breaking like many before. When I start developing habits mean that I have lingered long enough on one thing. Monotony, hence restlessness and the block