The charisma of Solitude

"Solitude, though it may be silent as light, is like light, the mightiest of agencies; for solitude is essential. All come into this world alone; all leave it alone. "

Though social enough, i prefer being alone as my profile says. And to mention it ,its not about any girl or love or sorrow that makes me like that ,but here I shall discuss the magic of being alone ; or with one person.

Whenever I am with friends , a 'gang', in other words ; we share jokes, speak slangs, make fun of each other and almost die out laughing. It acts as a great stress buster. They make you forget your wildest of traumas in just a few minutes. Depression definitely makes its way out of mind, but only for a while. Its like a cigarette .The moment you leave it ,that relaxation disappears. Serious issues often vanished in fumes in these moments ,but not in reality ,so they had to return to me, once those nice moments ceased.

But with one trustworthy person, I can discuss my woes ,seek opinions, it gives me all the warmth I need, and its not another cigarette ,the advice persists and beneficial many a times. Quite often the discussions alone have steered to solutions of continuous troubles persisting in life ,and many a time as productive ones, too resourceful a tool for personal development in the years to follow. The laughter also shared in these moments is calm, but mind boosting .

Another thing done alone is reading those fantastic novels ,an ultimate platform for me into writing and enjoying the thrills accompanying it. Pondering over certain topics going wrong in life ,can be often magical and lead to pretty wise decisions .And then comes writing alone and alone.

Also Solitude brings me a fantastic chance to rejuvenate myself, exhilarate a new life and get my focus back. It offers me the solution to everything that I am stuck with, also allow me just to calm down a bit after a frantic day and gives me the chance to spend time with mysel.

But that doesn't mean I don't like being parts of gangs ,I love to be ,but with the exception of a few times ,when the magic lies ahead in discovering some things, awaited in life smoothly and calmly.

Strangers on a Local Bus

Shubhonker Das stood waiting at the murky,calignous bus station situated near Kidderpore Road, in the dense, busy city called Kolkata. The battered old Government bus, marked with a no. 12D, arrived;Shubhonker boarded it. He was headed towards Behala, where he worked in a local departmental store.

Shubhonker sat down, the bus was almost empty. He looked around, and saw a man of around his age sitting ahead of him, an old man a few seats ahead, a woman seated opposite to him, and a college girl behind him. "No Smoking", said a sign right next to him;wonder if that was specifically for him. He smirked inside his mind. He pulled out a pack, drawing out one of the white sticks of pleasure. Lighting it with a match, he took a mighty puff.

Debashish Ghosh looked at the man seated behind him. He was traveling towards a market situated near Diamond harbour. He was new to the city, felt that it was larger than life. When he saw a cigarette being pulled out, he couldn't resist. Fishing for one in his pocket, he felt the longing for the thing he always felt. He found one and lit it.

Shubhonker felt good that he wasn't the only one. He felt that he and the man ahead belonged together. It wasn't a bond of habits, he knew that the person ahead of him was as desperate as he was. It was a bond of personalities. Somehow, his action seemed justified. However, he soon became aware of a pair of eyes gazing him. Debashish was in a world of his own, but knew that he couldn't be satisfied by a single one. He had just lit his first, but knew that it wouldn't be sufficient. However, amidst his reverie, he felt a sharp gaze pointed at him and the man behind him.

Both of them looked at the lady seated across them. She had a contemplative look in her eyes as she was glancing at the men. Something about her face made the men suddenly aware of what they were doing.

Shubhonker was used to stares, but this one was different, he didn't know why. He felt contempt against people who judged against people who smoked. They could never know how it saved him from the agony; the pain life has always been, he thought. He remembered the time when he began smoking. All of his friends did, and it felt soothing. It felt great to be under the influence of something so powerful. It provided salvation from pain. It was the only thing left in his life. He had progressed to two packets a day, smoking whenever he felt like: under stress, without stress, with friends, alone.... But somehow, today, the feeling of remorse got better of the usual comfort he found in smoking.

Debashish couldn't help but feel a certain twinge of pity. He knew that what he was doing was supposed to make him feel better, but it didn't now. He knew smoking made him appear stronger, like a man of convictions, a man who nobody can mess with. But he felt this to be a mere pretense today more than anything else. He felt that he was weaker than most people; that he had no convictions. He felt a huge blank in his life, felt a need for friends, for someone who could understand him.

Both men looked at each other and then at the woman once again, not knowing what to feel: hatred or gratitude, anger or respect, pain or hope.

The woman looked at the men once again, and feeling comfortable enough, drew a Beedi from her purse, lit it and began puffing.

P.S. Based on a real-life story. do comment if u lik it...