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Jungle claims all..

This was written about a month ago. it was a heavy evening with clouds that refused to rain. 
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My room is a 12 by 12 feet fortress. Books and loud music keep the outside world where it belongs. Buena vista social club, Sigur Ros and Inti-Illimani create the different layers of the reality that I want to belong to. The alien language reinforces the knowledge that that world is indeed exotic, but not inaccessible. Buena Vista creates a world of siestas, gentle dance and happy café shop conversations; Sigur Ros’s pristine beautiful sounds fills me with contentment and calm happiness; and Inti-Illimani’s simple earthy songs of togetherness promises me a better future.
And then ‘Duniya’ from the movie ‘Gulaal’ starts on the shuffle. All the carefully constructed peace is shattered and I return to the anger that I was trying to run away from. The duniya (world) I was avoiding all along comes in with all its virulent malevolence through those speakers; the duniya that makes deception the currency of livelihood; the duniya that binds me to its rules with EMIs; the duniya that prefers image over substance; the duniya where one has to take himself seriously; the duniya of complete inequality; the duniya that only reads between the lines.
The mosquitoes that until now escaped death because of my decision not to submit to violence, soon start finding themselves squashed mercilessly behind rolled up magazine or two swift palms. Wily ants magically grow through the cracks in the floor tiles and start dragging the dead mosquitoes towards their home in some corner of the room.
Jungle. Jungle claims all. No matter how carefully you construct your world, the jungle of predatory emotions plants itself firmly until you continue bringing its vestiges from the 8 hours spent in earning your keep against your convictions.
Must change.
___
P.S. - and  i did. :)

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Ctrl-tab
Ctrl-tab...
Scroll Scroll Scoll..
Alt-tab
Alt-tab...
Catch yourself slipping away.

Deep  breath. 

Close the browser. silence the mobile and turn it away.

Open an offline-real-paper diary. Stop your thighs from lolling impatiently. Stay still. 

Pick up a pen awkwardly. ahh, the fingers are stiff. It will take a  while for them to get used to holding a pen. Quick finger exercise - open the palm, stretch finger outwards, close into a fist, dig the fingers in. Repeat.
Ok now.. about to pick up the pen again, but eyes dart towards the screen. Tempted to check email.

Shut up. The last consequential email came two months ago. Nothing of consequence is online.

Pick up the pen. Don't fetishize the object now. Get on with it. Put it on paper, write a word and start it already. If I get to a sentence, perhaps I will get into a flow and won't have to look up from the paper at all. 

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