BATH, ENGLAND, UK: After observing a snowcapped Christmas the city is preparing for the New Year’s Eve. Festive modes have touched almost all the inhabitants of the city. December comes with convivial atmosphere in Western hemisphere of the earth. And Bath isn't the exception—it’s a very lovable small city located in southwest part of England. Panoramic hilly terrain, Georgian architecture and Roman establishments all around have given Bath a very idyllic and historical image. The city attracts tourists throughout the year; needless to mention, December brings extra décor in festivities. This city is also popular among students thanks to the University of Bath which is a top-notch, continuously thriving British university. Along with city’s alluring appeal, University of Bath’s pedagogic name and fame have brought Anan in Bath last year. Anan Azmee, an Indian Muslim originally from Hyderabad, is a second-year Economics student at University of Bath. Coming here in UK for studying Economics in a top-tier university is one of the best things ever happened in Anan’s life. First time in life he is out of home, far away from home, staying in university dormitory with a considerable sense of independence for last one and half year. Anan gives all the credits to his dad for selfless monetary support and facilitating him to pursue higher education dream. After graduation Anan’s only goal is to secure a full-funded PhD admission at London School of Economics (LSE) and subsequently to work for any of World Bank’s sister concerns. Probably this achievement will somewhat offset the financial burden Anan has imposed on his dad as he failed to secure any scholarship in undergraduate studies. Life is all about balancing and counter-balancing acts—that is how Anan thinks about life philosophy. He is a natural introvert and likes to proclaim himself as a sapiosexual. However, after coming here in Britain there is a seismic transformation happened in his personality. Now he is very much ambivert in nature—new city, new country, new people and circumstances made a trickledown effect in Anan’s prior distant personality. Nevertheless, month long vacation has temporarily made Anan unaccompanied; all of his flat mates (one Greek, one Dutch, two Chinese, one Saudi Arabian) already left for home to celebrate Christmas and New Year vacation with their friends and family. Even his compatriots cum affluent friends (Rahul from Bengaluru and Vijay from Mumbai) went home to spend vacation as well. Over the year Anan tried hard to cope with the Western way of celebrations—clubbing, partying, drinking—but he barely could fit in. Interestingly, he didn’t quit participating in any of these high-voltage activities as he finds some sort of inexplicable pleasure in watching and pandering other people’s enjoyment. Probably that’s how his ambivert being comes into practice. By the way, it’s still an hour left for Big Ben’s mighty hands to permit Britons officially kicking off frenzy revelry. Anan has already taken his dinner—menu is simple but sumptuous in taste. He has decided to spend New Year’s Eve in dorm-room, all alone, in his very own way. As academic pressure is escalating, nowadays free time has become very rare for him. He wants to kindle wax vigil as part of his solitary celebration—he has bought those waxes from nearby TESCO along with some Swedish ciders at a lucrative discounted price. That’s it, all preparation is done. Now it’s waiting time. Finding nothing important to do, Anan brings out an old diary kept underneath of a large stake of his Economics books. During college days in Hyderabad this diary was his chronicle—always kept record of all notable events. After coming in Britain he rarely opens it. Probably it’s the time to touch it a bit. Dairy and archaic writings have a robust capability to evoke old memories and indulge someone in dolorous nostalgia. As Anan is flipping through the dairy, an interesting writing titled “Dying Swan: A Fictional Monologue” glues his eyes. After glossing over date of the writing, he starts to read:
Can you hear me? Here I'm calling you loudly. Will you ever know—the rain reminds me of you, the lonely bus ride reminds me of you, the grave twilight reminds me of you, the sea side sunset reminds me of you, Scorpions' Lonely Nights reminds me of you, Kenny G’s saxophone instrumental reminds me of you, the early morning stroll reminds me of you, the midnight terrace walk reminds me of you, my long distant look towards unknown horizon reminds me of you, the Friday afternoon reminds me of you? You will never listen the silent calling of my heart, will you? I can see only your halo during my loneliness. You are the sole inconspicuous character of my writings; you will never know!
Can you recall the day on which we promised to see the shooting stars together? Many lonely nights passed till date, but that intoxicated moment didn’t come even for a little while. It sneaked out perpetually. The promise itself faded away over time. What a convoluted twist of fate! Still the stars twinkle in midnight sky, but a dark melancholy always disrupts that spatial beauty deliberately. Do you know why—because, to me, you are now a Dying Swan, who rarely enjoys nature’s picturesque pristine. Life is a cryptic device which is encrypted with mystic codes. Today it gives the year-long cherished dream a come-true look but tomorrow it snatches away something truly needed in life, and screws the happy momentum abruptly.
Wise man said it well: when we are starving, we frankly say we are hungry, even in public we don’t hesitate to do so; we say, we are sleepy, when we are thoroughly jaded; but thing goes quite ironically in case of love—even if love becomes a crying need in life, somehow we cannot say, 'We need some more love’. Why can't we say it? It's just as basic a need after all. Yes, I couldn’t say it when I supposed to beseech it to make life a bit more comfortable, a bit more stress free. Why I couldn’t say that when I needed it badly? Maybe it requires an elaborative explanation to answer this question, but more than that it is important to realize how much ready the feeble heart is to revive once again and narrate with glib reminiscence about some hostile pasts.
It was a sheer conundrum between an ardent feeling and a foreseeable fear. And at the end fear triumphed over passion. I couldn’t dare to listen the true calling of my heart. The fort of emotion collapsed like a sandy dune. A tiny fear to face the reality has changed every algorithm of life. I muffled my fervent calling mercilessly and propelled it towards a painful journey. Love is being strangled prematurely. Languor is now governing the melancholic realm adorned with dreadful emptiness and horrendous loneliness. Soliloquy conversation with pain resistant heart is the only doable medium I have to exchange meaningless views. I can see the shadow of my Dying Swan everywhere. She stalks me all the way around, and I can envision it through the stealth lens of my heart. I try to talk to her, but she hardly feels any interest to talk to a craven lad who didn’t learn how to take a little but life changing risk.
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| Extinguished flame and the evergreen scar |
My Dying Swan is indifferent with her ephemeral world where a dark shadow is the only means, if any, to realize her existence. She plays with dark and light, and gibes at her follower thinking of him as a poor fellow. Life is full of joy if some IFs are there for us, at the same, if some NOTs are not there to complicate things around. But this is what life is, wise man argues on cunningly—he knows past, present and future, yet restraints to intervene in someone's personal life, and always let the grief-stricken person learn from his/her own life. According to him, it's the most pragmatic approach to know different dimensions (pleasant or unpleasant) of life. However, it’s a tough lesson to acquire and make the life’s footsteps precise and highly immaculate. My sorcerer Dying swan jeers with anger to see all these funny acts. In a usual lonely evening, all on a sudden, she could sense an attention-seeking presence of a strange shadow. She said, "Who are you?". The shadow shrugged and replied, "It’s ME, whom you have seen long before! I have abandoned the material world and came back for expiation. Will you be bit more lenient and let me stay with you forever".
By
George Atlantic as Anan Azmee
Originally Written: 31-12-2013 @11:55am
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