He remembers a sense of unease in company right from childhood.
He would be full of enthusiasm for a new experience, but find himself at the other end of strange looks. There was something that others could not relate to, and preferred staying away.
He attached no great value to relationships – he was so certain that souls travel on their own trajectories, and take their own time to evolve. He accepted being alone like no one else could, and valued the depth of insights it gave him.
Even if he was different in some imperceptible or invisible manner, he could not fathom the reason for others keeping away.
Are they not curious to know what he thinks, visualises and finds new pathways to the same old destinations?
Are they part of a closed tribe, which did not welcome people who think differently?
Are they nursing a complex of some kind, and derive comfort in their cocoons?
Not that he really cared, but his thought process was on so many levels that he gave himself a phobia of heights. Or was it their phobia? He couldn’t help being curious and was even willing to lend a helping hand. But nobody seemed to want his hand to fly. They were so secure and grounded in their self-constructed worlds.
He wanted to take them all to a counsellor. Maybe he is able to relate to them at their level better than before.
Sometimes, he listened to their stories with interest. Random words in front of other random words create a random sentence, and random perspectives. The end result was laughable, and he couldn’t get why people invested so much time and effort to construct nonsense.
“Are you a writer?” She was the first one to show a hint of curiosity.
“Not really, though I can string words together. Somehow they don’t match the images and interactions I visualise.”
“Then make a movie – with more than just words.”
It made sense.
“Will you act in my production?”
“I may. Who are going to be my co-stars?”
She already saw herself as a star, not a mere actor. Maybe this is how divas looked and behaved.
“What is the role you’d give your right arm to play?”
“I wouldn’t give my arm for anything. That’s a non-sensical phrase. I come from a tribe of head-hunters, so I will never need a shrink.” She added as an afterthought, Maybe I play the shrink…”
“Where were you all my life? I am the patient on the couch.”