Note- This is a work of fiction. It doesn’t follow a structured narrative and is just a random collection of thoughts, moments, memories, and nostalgia.
“Why do I even talk too much?”
“What’s up with this chasing people?”
The questions emerged as she lay down on the bed at night. It was past midnight, and she, being not a night owl, was feeling drowsy for the past few hours.
I should have slept earlier. I can’t mess up my sleep again.
She thought, but almost instantly and out of nowhere she heard another thought in another voice, “You’re still seeking attention! Why, though?”
The word ‘attention-seeking’ was something she never wanted to identify with but somehow, she had always fought against and still associated with it for quite a few years now.
The conversation between the two voices started, all while her mind began to drift towards sleep as soon as she hit the bed.
“Is it wrong to look forward to talking to people? Is it wrong to get too excited?”
“It’s not wrong. But do you really think anyone’s interested in your stuff when the world is always on the verge of crumbling for everyone?”
“But what if I lose them? What if we just stopped talking one day? Like it happened with Shashi. Damn, I can’t deal with this adulthood. And even I always try to be there for my friends too, but still somewhere I feel I don’t do enough for them.”
“Don’t you hate it when someone talks to you because of some obligation and not excitement? The same goes for you too.”
“I already have stopped talking to my school friends. I am pretty sure they must be feeling like how I am all changed now. But I don’t get how to, when to and what to talk to them? Everyone’s busy. Including me. But sometimes I even feel guilty of it, and other times I feel bad seeing that I am troubling others. You know right? That how much I hate troubling people. That’s the last thing I ever want to do.”
“But still somehow you end up doing the same.”
“Yeah, you’re right.”
She barely recognised the arrival of the other voice as she was almost in the swing of sleep and thought, yet again, that she was dreaming.
“Tomorrow I will have to mop the room, write that thing, take two lectures, study, go outside…”
The voice trailed off with the sleep-swing moving constantly in a rhythm.
She still at least forced herself to finish the sentence. She had read, and observed too, earlier that the mind remembers the things you do right before sleeping and you’re most likely to do the tasks if you have a sort of mental checklist ready beforehand.
“And write journal and also read the book. ‘The novel’ and not anything else. And the journal.”
“Ohh! I repeated it. And…And…do that also…” she tried to say mentally but by now she was so close to the magical world of sleep.
“And sleep early. I don’t wanna mess it up,” she managed to finish.
“It’s already messed.” Another voice said, again.
She finally entered the dark but peaceful place and was unaware of everything for the next few hours.
It was a holiday the next day. Her senses woke up around six-thirty in the morning. She finally woke up at six forty-nine after getting constantly nudged by the rats trying to break into some of the containers.
These damn rats!
She woke up with a jerk.
“Ahh. It’s today already. I need to clean the room.”
“I’ll try not to talk too much today. I am not an idiot man.”
“You indeed are an idiot. Always complicating and messing things up.”
“Let it be. We have to enjoy today. Why even worry about it?”
“Yeah. Leave it. Who cares?”
“Yeah, but still. It’s not good to forget people. I hate that.”
Damn. These thoughts started playing right where I left them last night.
“We still will try to do better. I’ll call Maria today. And also Aunu too. I’ll text Shashi. Bro, it’s alright. She is busy, I know, but I can at least ask how she is doing right?”
“Yeah. Do ask. Leave it already, NOW. Let’s go.”
The conversation happened inside her mind for a brief moment, before she stepped out of the bed.
The body aches better the second day after the fall, doesn’t it? I should have taken that painkiller yesterday.
Another thought but she consciously didn’t pay much attention to it and went upstairs.
The weather was turning cold day by day. She thought of going to the terrace but decided to first put on a full-sleeved shirt on top of her t-shirt. As she went inside her room, her eyes fell on the laptop on the table and she remembered something.
Oh. I had to finish that draft too.
She put on the shirt, closed the door and sat on the chair. She typed something for around thirty-minutes and left for the terrace afterwards.
The picture of herself on the terrace on several different occasions surfaced in front of her and she smiled.
“I don’t go there often now.”
“It’s slightly a good thing. At least you no longer feel the immediate need of being in sun right after waking up to feel okay.”
“Yes, you’re right. But still, isn’t it unfair to not be grateful enough for it now?”
“Well, I am grateful for it. And yes, I’ll try to visit here more often.”
“Yess. Winters are coming anyway. We’ll be needing it.”
“I wish the sun would always come up in winter too. That foggy weather is so depressing and weird.”
Certain other images of winter and her not being in a good shape appeared this time.
“It’ll be okay. I am at home now, after all.”
“It’ll be.”
“You know, I miss Rakshu. I am so grateful for her. I don’t want to lose her either.”
“For real. If she hadn’t been there, it would have been even worse.”
“Yupp, you’re right.”
The sun was right in front of her. Her lips curled into a smile, and she went to her favourite spot.
She had her diary and a pen with her. For a moment she tried to absorb the beauty of it. The golden rays putting a natural filter on everything and the bright blue sky soothed her.
It almost felt like a whole different place. For a moment her head was clear enough to consciously feel and write. She began writing something in her diary.
The chirping of birds, pooris getting fried in the neighbour’s house, the milkman calling out to the people on the street, the feel of cool winds on the sun-warmed and uncovered skin of her palms and feet, and the expanse of azure sky in front of her, made her finally feel like it was a day off.
A train was also pulling up at the station nearby. She looked at it and thought of her dad. She looked up from the notebook for a moment and smiled again.
Looking at her, the birds sitting on the nearby tower, talked among themselves, “See, she’s finally breathing properly. How silly these humans are! They forget to even breathe well in their lives. What an irony! They chase a million things and forget how to exist and live first. If you’re not living, then man what are they even doing everything for.”
Shree couldn’t decipher what they were saying and just listened—Kooh…Kooh! Chin-chin-chwan! Kooh…Kooh! Caw…caw…champh...champh.
She ended up writing a poem and the simple act of writing it and feeling those memories again lightened up her face. She exhaled and without thinking she knew what was coming next. She squared her shoulders and continued soaking in everything.
Thoughts are just stories after all. Why am I even taking them so seriously?
“So just stop messing it up, no!” She recognised the voice and the timing of it made her laugh.
A dog barked loudly as it started chasing one of its friends on the road, and the birds scattered into the sky, chirping even more loudly.
“Such dogs these humans are. They don’t know what they are doing, why they are doing it, but still just keep doing,” a bird said.
“Who cares? Let us fly and live,” a few of the other ones said together and they flew over Shree in an ‘A-shaped’ pattern.
She smiled looking at them and before climbing down the stairs, took one full round around the very place she was standing.
“I hope these images are stored well in my brain. These are the ones that should appear more often.”
“Again. Stop trying to control everything. Let it be. Let’s go. We have to mop the floor, read the book, take a lecture...”
The voices started chatting again. But she tried to ignore them and be in the moment for now. She looked at the poem she wrote and smiled.
The Poem—
Tum chat ho ya time machine,
Kis kis samay ne pahuncha jate ho hume pata hi nhi,
Ek pal ke liye chidiyon ki chahchahat sunkar gaon yad aajata hai,
Phir agle hi pal chaaro or sirf ghar aur chat dekh kar,
Doosra aur bada sheher yad aata hai.
Station ki aawaz se toh maano ek saath,
Bachpan se bade hone ke din jhalak uthte hain,
“Papa mujhe trains bahut pasand hai,” kehkar,
Train me chips ka packet khana yad aajata hai.
Vakt ke gulam banane ki iccha rkhne vala mai,
Anayaas samay vyarth karne par nirash ho jata hun,
Lekin chat par aakar mano ghadi ki sui ruk jati hai,
Aur phir samay vyarth ho, ya jeevan me phir hum late ho,
Iske mayne na rkhna thoda aasan sa ho jata hai.
Gini chuni cheezein hi toh hai yahan,
Jinke kho jane ka dar nhi lagta,
Mai khush iss baat se hun,
Ki mujhe surya, Aasman, aur chidiyo ko,
Keval sirf accha mehsoos karne ke liye ab nhi dekhna padta.
Han man abhi bhi ghabrata hai,
Aakhir time ki race hai.
Ruk jana yahan kisi paap se kam nhi,
Jo ruk jao toh hriday khud hi ko jwala me sek le.
Aaj bhi bahut gile shikwe hain hume khud se,
Hum shikayat nhi aabhar mante hain ab toh,
Ki shikwon ke baad bhi kam se kam hum chalne ki koshish toh kar rhe.
Maaf karna na mujhe har baar ki tarah,
O aasman, o surya, o nazare, hum bahut khushnaseeb hain tumko hamesha sath pakar...’
English Translation—
Are you a chat (the terrace) or a time machine,
How many moments you’ve taken me through, I’ll never know.
For a moment, the sound of birds reminds me of the village,
And in the next, seeing terraces and houses all around,
Some other, bigger city comes to mind.
The sounds of the station, it feels,
Resurface all the glimpses from childhood to adulthood together.
I remember saying, “Papa, I love trains,” and then eating a pack of chips in the train.
Aspiring to be a slave to time,
I get disappointed at purposelessly wasting it.
But it feels as if even the clock’s hands stop once I come to the terrace,
And then, even if the time gets wasted or I get late in life,
Not keeping these records becomes a bit easier.
There are only a few countable things in life
That I don’t feel afraid of losing.
I am happy for this —
That I no longer have to look at the Sun, the Sky, or the birds
Just to feel a little better.
Yeah, my heart still gets afraid,
After all, it’s life’s race.
Stopping here is no less than a sin,
And if I do, the heart itself burns in the fire of guilt.
Even today, I still have many complaints with myself,
But now I don’t complain much — I feel gratitude instead,
That even after all the complaints, I am still trying to move forward.
Please forgive me, won’t you? Just like always.
O sky, O sun, O beautiful views,
I am very grateful to still have your company.
Thank you so much for reading <3
Ps- The title—Guchur-Puchur, is an hindi expression which stands for random and confused voices or a random mess that is tangled and doesn’t’ makes sense at first, lol. At least, this is what I think of it. I don’t know the real meaning. I like it for some reason, lol.
I wrote this poem around a month—or maybe two—ago on a random morning. It’s funny how things keep shifting almost always. Every time I look back to my previous stuff, I feel both a mixture of familiarity and a hint of distance too. Why? I don’t know but it’s a bit fun too.
I was really wondering lately that why I should write things (including the things in diary) and I realised that having a collection of your own writing to look back to feels great; like meeting an old friend or visiting an old place.
PPs- Will try to post one other poem by the end of this week and would also try to write Musical Letters or at least something else. I miss writing a lot (some days, lol).
I would love to hear if you’d like to share something about this, or you would like to share your own similar experiences.
If you’d like to support my work ;) (monetarily), you can do so here—
Your presence alone matters a lot. Thank you so much for being here.
Until Next Time,
Take Great Care <3
Seeya soon in the next one,
Yours,
Ameliorating A.
I just read a couple of post from you, and realised that you are such a versatile writer. I think you really need to join some publication soon. Your poetry is as I had said a long time ago, impacting and heartfelt.
Wowww....the poem is so beautiful and vivid....I can relate to the main character here ..worrying about being an 'extra' every where....never knew I would be a main character in any story 😅 keep writing ✍️