Castles , Closure , Catharsis and Clearing the Cache

It is rather peculiar how someone could have gone in a mere 7 months from building castles in the air with a Goan to building sand castles at Goa [the Goan having vanished into thin air]. Lofty dreams GROUNDED ? A capricious world indeed .

For a kid who prided himself on his logic and ability to reason out things , it was certainly unsettling to be fed purely on emotions . A pessimist-turned-optimist who turned cynical all over [ does the glass even exist ?!]. Where better a place for true perception to be attained than standing grounded , ankle deep in sand , looking out at the sea [Closure with a capital sea?! ;)].

The book lies shut under the glow of a table-lamp .It is only partially thumbed through ; I may never know what the rest of it reads . The cover of the leather tome still never fails to amaze me . I pause for a moment , run my fingertips across those familiar inscriptions on the cover , dreamily remembering the hours spent admiring it . I examine the once sturdy binding and nod my head in disappointment at some of the now loose leaves . Allowing myself a whiff of the delicate odour given off by the sheets , I lose myself in a reverie : a recapitulation of the preface and four-and-a-half chapters I had read . With heavy footsteps and a knot in my throat I carry it to the bookcase . Ascending the rungs of the ladder to the very top , I proceed to stand on tiptoe , stretch my arm out as far as can go and place the book on the highest shelf . A place of honour for a work I once cherished . The dust on the shelf is disturbed into a cloud . A violent cough is induced and my eyes turn moist and misty [surely brought on by the dust of course , cos as you know big boys don't cry! ;) ]  Steadying myself to avoid tipping right over, I then climb slowly down the ladder and walk away from the bookcase fighting the urge to take one last look at the volume with just one thought in my mind ,'' Well too bad for her , because there's this amazing book with(in) me too that she had begun to read, but shall never get to complete.''

Chagrin. Closure. A cenotaph . Carte Blanche.

''Shit happens'' , I once said to a pal . ''Don't worry soon enough someone will come around with a pooper scooper!'' , she replied. That was certainly the most amusing and perhaps even the most helpful line said to me over these tumultuous months. Hope is a funny thing with the power to destroy you at times , while at others it can piece you together like nothing else can . Pooper Scooper , oh Pooper Scooper where are ye ?! [waiting for you to come along and scoop me off my feet!]

While I await your arrival , this lil peasant boy shall try to fashion himself a suit of armour and shine it as bright as can be! I shall then practice the walk , shoulders held high , the gait of a noble knight . Through it all I'll just hope that knights-in-shining-armour haven't been completely sidelined [by vampires with sharp canines!]. Considering that times have changed , I'll proceed to sit back and wait for a damsel to come and rescue [or atleast inbox!] me.  *hint hint*  ;)  

Now , I'm off to build myself up from scratch . Wish me luck [or atleast the right array of circumstances!].

Construct. Change.

{ @ Calangute beach , Goa...built along with Amulya}