Something is Missing......

He always felt that he is special, with immense talent and confidence, he can be successful. Daily, he would get feeling that he could write impressive, he had the creativity, he had the imagination ; standing on the footboard of the train, breathing in the fresh air, daily, he would dream himself to be a successful writer,

He would see a little child doing potty at the side of rail track, he would imagine, what would be that boy’s life? Does he go to school? If not, had he ever thought about going to school? What are his parents? Are they working on daily wages and is he the one unlucky playing with children of same condition? Would he able to read books that I read? What if I go to him someday ask him what does he do? What if I spend an entire day with him? What if I understand his emotions, and write his feelings about the children who are been raised well? Or else, what if I write a diary for him? ‘Sounds to be an interesting idea!’ he would say promising himself to surely develop on it when he will get back from the office.

Day gets over, and here starts another journey of thoughts while traveling back! He would imagine looking at the throng on the station. ‘Why do we live in Mumbai? It is the dirtiest city with people crawling like ants here and there. Why am I living here? I’m not at all getting any sense of living my life here; I’m not getting time to do something in my way, something I really like. I’m doing job just for the sake of the money, there also I don’t get enough scope to explore myself. Am I the only one living this kind of life here? Am I the only one frustrated with family problems?’ Bang, his imagination starts working, he decides to write on the nuisance he is feeling; he would pretend himself leading hundreds of people who are sharing the same sentiment of frustration, anger, helplessness as he is feeling and people behind him nodding ‘Yes, he is the one who understands us. He is the one who could actually write our emotions.’

He would come home drained, too hungry to wait; he would eat dinner, thinking about the mails he has to send tonight and not at all enjoying the dinner to the fullest, just doing it mechanically. By the time, he sits on the computer, does his office work, his eyes start prickling, and he decides to go to bed rethinking of tomorrows work list; Completely forgotten about writing the thoughts, being a writer. Very soon, his body demands a sound sleep and again his life goes on the same cycle next morning.

He continues to live this way knowing he is not living to the fullest. Though he enjoys little joys in the life, adjusts himself according the life demands, he lives with something missing, something incomplete, and never satisfied...................