“Mumma, I need to go to the toilet. Please come with me!”-
this is what the hazel-eyed, brown-eyed boy would say to his mother. He was
scared of the dark. Funny thing was, he wasn’t scared of ghosts, he was scared
that he would be trapped in the toilet for some reason. And he couldn’t think
of anything that he would do inside if ever such a travesty struck.
“You are big boy, beta.
7 years old and a grown-up man! I get scared standing outside. Don’t you think
I should sit inside here, safe, away from the darkness outside,” argued the
mother. She was a smart woman (as if
there is any other kind of women. They are all smart. Haven’t seen otherwise!).
The boy would go talking to himself or humming a song. He
was always averse to the idea of being alone; actually, he was more averse to
the idea of silence; the deafening eerie silence that actually gives you the
impression of not being alone, but being lonely.
He grew up to be a gregarious young boy. Always talking, not
only to others but also to himself. It was his way of reassuring himself that
he was not alone.
“Pray like normal people once, will you? You don’t have to
talk to God like he is a person”, scowled his mother. She didn’t understand
that the boy was not only alone, but he was also lonely. And if the entity that
accompanied him was to be called God, then be it.
In all this, this guy, who grew up much more, with premature
grey, found the best remedy. He surrounded himself with a lot of friends. Oh so
many of those! Constant chatter it was, whether it was with them in person, or
over the phone. He very well could have run an entire call center! And talk he
did-of his life, of other’s lives, of the various ideas that his head spun. People
grew used to him, habituated to his constant banter.
The greys increased. The boy realized that it was during the
time when he was lonely and quiet and talking to himself, he was at his best.
He loved himself, not in an asinine, narcissist way. He loved his own company.
It took time, but he realized that he was his best friend.
Today, he thinks back- he was never lonely, he couldn’t have
been. He was only alone!
And, well, I was always there with him, like I am now, when
he is typing!
