Rush at the end of a day
The same road, the same darkness, same cars parked along the road, damp roads due to the light rain that blesses me at least once in a day. The same absence of light and missing part of morning sunlight as I try to wake up early in the morning but never try to go to bed early. The moment when I step out of my place my credo tells me that again while this walk I will be a part of these moments and regular part of this life will again push me back to my working place.
But nothing like that, today I am quite surprised looking at the long jam of cars and people hassling over corners. A variety of them, by looking at them it feels like it's a special occasion, so they afford and are not annoyed to be a part of rush. This rush has always been a petrifying thing for me that is built of human beings, auto-mobiles and someone who possess the power of standing in the middle of road and directing these bodies.
The last day it was and the scene was different, empty scenario, suddenly this rush.. I always wondered where it comes from. Rush is a tendency that attracts people and it becomes a task as well as a challenge to cross the rush and reaching at the destination and again crossing the rush and coming back. On this special day if somebody has a target, it only means we will find him somewhere in rush. Rush is very rude, it never identifies me, I walk along the road, I know I am a person but who cares, I am just a rush, being in rush means that you will have to hurry up because the overall pace is defined by the speed of leading person, and in rush definitely a big number of people is following you as well, so this must be in your concern , your pace must be suitable to their need.
I can look at the child walking with his guardian, he is new and never ever engulfed with so number of people around. He is in fear, he can't see anything, his shortness of size and understanding stops him from doing that, but he is certain as his guardian is holding his hand.
We are near a big shopping mall, the same rush is stalking at me. Rush has its own culture, it is different at old, suffocated portion in the city and it is different when we are at the entering gate of this shopping mall in the same city. The guard whose duty is to check bags is doing very fast, this speeding up offers me to skip this check, no body notices. Inside a different culture of rush is there, if somebody overtakes you and a mishap occurs, a smile will be there and person seeks for excuse. The same thing is different out of this shopping mall, you are on your own, better not to indulge yourself in this kind of mishaps you will picture yourself as an ill mannered person or may be abused. But this dim yellow lighting and breeze of giant ventilation system has its own effect on this culture.
This is very amusing to be a part of this, a qualitative part of this rush. On the very next moment my thoughts, the way I think changes a little bit and knowingly or unknowingly this culture fills into my hollow space of my mind. Now I am in a beautiful rush, it's beautiful, a mixture of fragrance. Now I am in rhythm that is titillating my thoughts, purging out, my mind thinks and I look at me, this rush is evocative. This piece of music that is coming out of those computer speakers I am aware of, is familiar to my ear, the same piece of music is in my hard disk , but next I suspect it is not, so lovely.. how on earth I have never added the same to my playlist. At least one amusing reason is in my list now that can move me back to my workplace. I am looking at faces, their mysterious eyes, why don't I have any serious motive to come here like them, it pierces my heart as I am just roaming at some place which is an important part of their life. I am just happy to see such collected stuffs around me, they have patterns and are colorful but in norm they are some just useful stuffs to this rush.
This rush is a preserved stuff, this color, this pace so I need not to worry about, whenever I want I can come back here again, may be one day these colors will merge into the objective sense of stuffs and will stop telling me stories. This thought is awful but keeps the auspiciousness of being some big. May be another day the bigness of things will unveil another kind of rush so I want to rush back and archive some words about this rush as a memorandum, I will have to cross some varieties of rushes flowing together to relish the dark silence of my work desk.