The Outsider -( as in.........)

Bespectacled females, gravitating breasts, toothy grins, amateurish artwork, an exhibition exemplary in it’s the lack of originality. A hot noon day sun, residues of a wild night in the marked lethargy seeping through my aching joints, I try few drags of the newly procured weed as a novel experience ignoring my lurking asthma attacks. The effect is a strange sensation of acute somnolence, a sense of general derision permeates my psyche. Lugging my behind off the couch, my friend and I course through the duty streets to the college campus. Even after three years, the environs hold more than a few surprises for me (my lethargy having prohibited me from venturing little further than ugly classrooms). Contempt required no familiarity to breed; rather it was more of a predisposition whose roots eluded my reasoning (now that I come to think of it! I never gave it a passing thought!). Rickety benches, brilliantly designed in some ancient reference frame, the rivets gnawing at tired butts, the beer in my belly upsets my balance and I grapple desperately to hold onto the desk and manage to look innocent as the professor throws a jaded glance (I wish he was drunk though!). Peeling paint, damp spots creating a myriad of patterns, something I never found any beauty in despite the odd short story romanticising it. Hazy noon heat, dark and wet, drowsy afternoons drooling on filthy keyboards and fingering sluggish mice, doodles on the rag tag note book; moments like every other, an unbroken chain of events in the life of a spendthrift with time.

Tonight is a welcome break. The texture of events to follow did not in the strictest sense leave a great taste, but was tangy enough to stimulate an acerbic article.

On an impulse I dress in the only suit (in reality only a combination of equi-toned blazer and trousers), Freudian humour filling the intervals between my dressing up. Isn’t it true that behind every moment that we spend grooming ourselves lay the primitive mating instincts? This is a concept that is ignored by most for the comfort derived from it and the discomfort in accepting it. With no definitive female in my cross-hair, I dress mainly out of instinct, not necessarily out of primordial urges but rather in sync with my pernickety nature.

Beyond hours of cogitation in my bare room (empty except for the basic but expensive accessories) I had pursued little or no social activity, preferring my own company than any other. Leaning back in my swivelling chair, staring at the ceiling or blank computer screen with unseeing eyes, vision glazed by musings on politics, society or titillating fantasies, I spent my college years mostly within these confines. Never feeling any worse for except for moments of loneliness, but ecstatic the next at having translated it into a worthwhile creation of prose, poetry or charcoal sketches. Sensual lines inspired by a Klimt sketch I had seen as a child, subjective interest in feminine forms, products of perversion or creativity? A question I never could ask myself since the sensation at the moment of execution was too abstract too rationalize and all the more pleasurable for it being so.

I tied the shoe-lace of my leather boots, stepped gingerly into the driver’s seat to avoid the inevitable creases, and drove off

Cynicism giving way to genial humour, I party with social antipodes.

The conversation spectrum ranges the expected antithetic polarities. But a sense of déjà vu is palpable in every word I say with a tongue loosened by alcohol. The novelty of the aural sensation does not go unobserved. Inane justifications roll off my tongue as I sip my umpteenth peg of vodka for the night. Someone is trying his first alcoholic drink and surveys the cocktail glass with apprehension and school-boy excitement. Religious vegetarianism, teetotalism – a combination that starkly contrasted with my previous company. A barely detectable note of derision was creeping into my speech, but I managed to overlay it with a rapid flow of verbosity. A dinner later, we parted are ways and I found myself again in the company of my friends whom I had deserted.

Drunken brawlers and cosy couples greet me. Soaking in the chilly dew of midnight we zip off in search of a late night cup of late night coffee