Chamber of Complexities
And I walked down the corridor as I always did. Or I believed I did.
I have never been jolted by the happenings of an earthquake or any natural calamity before. So whenever I had pictured a calamity, I always found myself being the wizard and survivor. The solution to misery and the hero of the day. You get the picture, don’t you? But here, I was caught unawares. How could anything but a paltry room be the greatest fear in my life? Why would it? And the same room where you’ve toiled for your life working for some stray, hazy goal that you would set everything on till death did it part. The very same room where you thought and thought about whether you were who you are, or are if what you are is enough, or whether you look pretty enough, or that are you intelligent enough? Are you enough or are you above? This very room that you are a part of. And that is part of you. It’s so filled up and yet you feel comfortable. It’s the mind that resides within you.
The hand whisked me into the room and in the engulfing darkness it held on firmly to its grip. I wrestled my hand free just to be gripped by another. And other. And another. Until all of my body seemed asphyxiated. For a while I struggled under their hold. Their hands glowed under the dark and I wondered what kind of SCI-FI I was living in. But to be very frank, I was, in some remotest part of my heart very sure that somewhere it would lead me where I would get answers to the countless questions I had. The hands whisked me forwards pushing me to the entrance of an even darker room within which resided an emanating splinter. Having no other choice but to move forward, I held out my hands amidst the darkness and moved precariously. I noticed with a sneer, the sparkling splinter was mischievously flickering closer to me, and I burned in its undulating heat.
It took an abstract form, looking somewhat like my reflection, with an even wondrous levels of depths to be seen. I quirked a brow, demanding an answer.
But answers aren’t what the mind gives you, does it? It laughed with a mirth unknown to my beliefs. Almost a sneer, but not too much. The kind that makes you doubt your eyes and probe your awareness.
‘How much do you think you know?’ Its voice boomed. ‘A lot, some not.’ I spat through, the hands still engulfing me prisoner. ‘What about you? How much do you know you?’ It choked on something. I terribly wished it was his questions that choked him. I scoffed, my defense guard up its usual ally, ‘What kind of a question is that?’ ‘Something you don’t wish to confront?’
To be honest, I had a certain part of me begging me to split into humorous sarcasm, the other begged anger. I still remained- at frustration.
‘Think about it. You know less of your own, and more of the world. Isn’t that a bitter irony?’
I stood there on shambles, my mind unshackled. Irony. The word.
He waved me away.
I threw awake to consciousness.
