Sunday, August 16, 2009

Transit

The boy called Lost was seated at the international lounge at Heathrow, thumbing through the latest issue of Bleach, with the signature white Apple earphones snaking its way from his ears to the depths of his pockets. Letting out a sigh, Lost extracts the new iPod and gives it a lazy shake. With a cheerful blip, the song switches to "The Precipice of Defeat". Of all the songs, mumbles the 20 or so old boy and gives another shake;this time a tad more vigorously than intended. Neko Case starts crooning away. The boy returns to his copy of Bleach, although he cannot concentrate on the epic battle being waged.

Time feels insignificant, he muses. Centuries ago, wise men and women traversed the lands, taking aeons to arrive at their destination. Nowadays in a span of less than half a day,entire continents are covered. Absurd. Hours ago, he was at the airport of his native land,wrapped in a tight embrace with his family. Tears were flowing freely and promises of constant contact were made. Pinky promises. Yaksoku. And now here he is, in the UK and still only halfway there. Another few hours to his new home in the US, where he shall begin a new chapter. New clothes. New friends.New Home. He notices not the spunky youngster who plods next to him in the lounge.

Lost aren't you? he queries with a grin. Lost wonders if he has a case of sadism. The youngster waits for a reply. He doesn't get one. Lost rips off his earphones with the music still blaring away and looks at the red haired man with a less than happy look. Probably, he replies. Just as I thought!, he exclaims. I've been following you kid, you looked lost the moment you took the flight. You think that you can possibly leave everything you hold so close to your heart and start a new life in a new place? You can't do that kid, I can see right through you. You put up a straight face at the airport, but you are broken inside. Cracked, tending towards shattered in a mathematical sense. He tussles his blazing red hair with the gentlest of care. Letting his accusation sink in, to simmer and to ultimately boil over in a seething rage. Hoping Lost will take the bait, hook line and sinker. However he does not get his reward, his victim seems to be a calm stream albeit a deep one.

The red haired man with a fiery temperament to boot, loses interest in the game. He gets up from his seat and walks away, gently swinging his customs free shopping bag. Get thee behind me Satan, mumbles Lost quietly.
That's pretty rude of you brat. I gotta name you know. It's Despair. And believe you me, the pleasure is all mine,kid. He laughs as he walks away, his right hand clutching the bag and his left, smoothing his hair.

All alone again. The boy called Lost looks at his watch, still displaying his home time and feels the first twinge of sadness at long last. A hundred emotions seem to burst forth,as though the words of Despair acted as a sort of catalyst. Moist spots appeared on the page, where Ichigo showed off his Bankai. Tensa Zangetsu. A few minutes to go and he is to leave this land of limbo and continue on his way again.

At last he arrives at his destination. The united states. Give us your poor, your tired, your huddled masses. Not to mention your emotionally drained immigrants. He gets his hand baggage and troops behind the horde of people waiting to get off the plane. The air hostess with the blond hair beams her widest smile and wishes him a great time in the States. He nods.
A stray glance at her name tag.
Hope, it says.
A million doubts and vagaries present themselves to the boy called Lost.
Ah, but there is Hope, he tells himself as he returns her warm smile.

3 comments:

prateekmathur said...

dude u reached new levels in writing with this post..with this u become an "author" from just another "blogger" like thousands of us..". You think that you can possibly leave everything you hold so close to your heart and start a new life in a new place? You can't do that kid, I can see right through you. You put up a straight face at the airport, but you are broken inside. Cracked, tending towards shattered in a mathematical sense"..the best phrase i have read on any blog ever...just too good..u have just achieved great insights into thousands of indian students leaving their shores...with just one motto..."WELCOME TO AMERICA...THE LAND OF DREAMS AND OPPORTUNITIES.."

vigneshjvn said...

Very very impressive narration. A little confusing though, for people who know you.

Girish said...

seriously, excellent writing skill.... glad you helped me wit my sop...