It’s a bad time, you know, when you see rectangles. Rectangles, I say, and not circles.
Seeing circles means you are dazed, high, drunk. Seeing rectangles mean you see the world stripped, bare, down to its deepest building blocks. One after the other. It’s like the blocks, much like coloured excel cells, paint a bigger picture when you zoom out. But inside, it’s monotonous, monochrome, and monocarpic.
I don’t know what the bigger painting is, or if it is a story. It could be anything. An artist doesn’t reveal his muse anyway, and the writer eventually, painfully does show his ruse.
So I’m in rectangles. Four walled, foreworded, forecasted and foretold. All in the same shade.
It’s like my life is in a rectangle, with the same coloured background and it’s four corners are marked “Seh Lenge Thoda”, “Haan Thoda Dard Hua, Par Chalta Hai”, “Beta Tumse Na Ho Payega” and “Utha Le re Deva!”
My life moves in that, like the DVD symbol, and when it perfectly hits one corner, I experience a clarity which fuels me until the next corner hit. And well, I’ve just hit a corner.
Beta Tumse Na Ho Payega.