Lull

A big lull. My head strains to remember images. Streaks of sun rays passing through the clouds. Moss soaked stones. Long walks in lake covered by mist. Innocent faces learning how to whistle.

The constant beat of tabla thumps in my head. Steady, slow and constant. It is a brisk lonely walk. Everything is a futile effort to break this noise in my head. Even the momentary silence is attracting noise. Wish everything was as simple as this flawless melody of a song. This effortless flow of one beat into another, one rhythm into another.

The images wont stop floating. Symphony of wind instruments at the biggest concentration of minds ever. This followed by a walk in the Harvard Square.

The tabla kicks in again. "Brisk Lonely Walk" plays again. This melody is what is holding me together. Preventing me from collapsing into abyss. The mind is laden with bullets that I wish someone could remove surgically because I don't have the will to extricate them on my own. The mind wants to rest. But restlessness is a big battle to be fought and won.

Nothing can stop the onslaught of tomorrow. The only thing constant in this mayhem is this stream of sitar flowing into a violin flowing into a tabla.

I want to sleep. Sleep with a mind so exhausted so as to eradicate its ability to talk and think.