Hypnotized by the kajoling embrace of multitude, people assume crowd to be synonymous to life. There are numerous stories that need to be unfurled from within the crowd, stories that may not be related to every drop that makes up the ocean. This is the real significance of multitude…this is what it actually means. A collection of myriads of untold stories that indeed needs to be realised!
I too am a drop that floods this ocean that crowds the crowd. But I’m not the heart and soul of crowd. My relation with multitude is inevitable and inexplicable. Strange though it may seem, crowd is mine but not totally mine, it’s a dear nightmare for me. There once was a time when crowd and I were inseparable, we were like bosoms who shared every passing time amicably. None would be able to elucidate this enigmatic relationship we shared; this relation that was so dear to me. I would follow crowd everywhere and it would do the same in return with equal magnitude and impetus.
Crowd would make many complaints to me and my complaints would balance the equation. As night would fall, we would tranquilize every misunderstanding. But with the break of dawn, we’d start irking and complaining to one another and make matters worse just as a couple would do.
Crowd would shoot many shells of complaints at me…sometimes for ignoring her, for having vented out my frustrations uselessly at her while inebriated and for neglecting her by chosing silence over her at times. An outburst of emotions would follow if I failed to caress and pamper her every evening. It would become almost impossible for me to depart from her without having kissed almost every part of her body.
Besides, cascades of sentiments would flow from my treasure trove of emotions as well and we would quarrel for hours endlessly. I would grumble over her surprisingly ignorant attitude towards my surplus grievances. To my objection, she would sketch novel stories every now and then. I dejected this! There were numerous occasions when we’d retire to bed with faces as red as beet, sobbing after outrageous outpour of vile utterances.
This is a tale of the times when crowd and I were companions. Those were the days we lived for our souls. The tale tells the saga of the land we live on. It is an emergence of the time when we were racing after our dreams.
Crowd may have had its dreams to meet like I had a plethora of desires to fulfill. May be our dreams were coherent or it could have been that our dreams were simple silhouettes of our imaginations, the existence of which lacked certainty. These could have been the reason for the untold story’s abrupt ending.
We brush shoulders even today but our encounters remain to be acknowledged. A mere smile, a simple tear seem to have eluded our friendship forever. Neither does our mouth stretch to our ears with one another’s sights nor do tears roll down our faces…all these emotions have left us forever.
I wonder what it is that has washed away our amity! I feel pride has taken over crowd…thus her careless attitude towards me is visibly vindicated. Crowd may be feeling the same about me.