Pritam's Blog
Change
(From an old diary, 27th April 2016)
I hate changes… No matter how much I say that I am a rational being, and pretend to be absolutely OK with even the most drastic changes in and around me, deep inside I know I can’t accept the fact that change is the only constant thing in this universe.
And even though I criticize the human trait where convenience decides even the most altruistic acts by us, it would be hypocrisy to say that my dislike for changes has nothing to do with my convenience…
For example, I won’t mind changes in my financial condition… Or in my relationship with my father… But at the same time I am not ready to give up my freedom and self-respect in the process of bringing in these changes. So, yes. It is about convenience…
Anyway, I made around 20 sketches in last 10 days, and none of them were upto the mark. It took me awhile to realize that it’s because I can’t see clearly. This is new. I know it’s nothing serious, especially because both my parents use spectacles… My grandma uses them too, and so did my grandpa… It’s probably hereditary. And I would probably be alright if I take glasses.
But I am a person who never learnt how to ride a bike for the fear of meeting an accident and breaking my hand, because I make sketches every day and breaking my hand isn’t something I can afford. And that my eyesight is being a problem now is something I am unable to accept…
And when I thought about it all after another failed attempt at a sketch , I realized how much I hate changes or the process of going through it… It reminded me of all the changes I have been through over the past few years. I felt sad…
I went to the terrace for a smoke. And that’s when I saw something I have been seeing for the past four years…
A fruit seller was on his way back home; his two kids sitting on his almost empty cart, listening to old Kannada songs in a Chinese mobile phone… And then he stopped at the gate of the apartment opposite to mine. Five minutes later, a woman came out. She works at one of the flats in that apartment. And every evening, the fruit seller on his way back, picks her up from there, and they go home together, the whole family, listening to old Kannada songs…
I smiled…
I called up my girlfriend.
“Hello…”
“You are so beautiful…”
“Fuck off…”
And then she started laughing. I knew she was actually blushing… The ‘fuck off’ was her way of brushing off the blush…
I realized that some things haven’t changed in all these years… I felt good.