It was dark. I cannot say if it was night. It must have been, in one half of the world. The other half would be awake, lit by warm sunshine. I just slept. Neither mattered.Ten thousand miles above the sea, its rapacious sounds stayed beyond me. There was no respite though, from the bouts of ear popping. That was the only thing that could awaken me. When I did, I looked around the airbus. It felt strange, like one of those medieval vessels, filled with wishful migrants bound by a single thread of hope.
It seemed really awkward to be the center of attraction, everyone pouring in with greetings and advice. It seemed even difficult to walk away from people I love the most. I never looked back. The thin film of water over my eyes was too disturbing to let me react. Once inside the aircraft, I felt friendless and I knew I'd be back home once I'm done with my masters. I was suddenly so aware that I was to lose a little part of myself, on my way to a new place. It nagged me, like that cringing pain in my knees.
After a rather uneventful journey, I reached Rolla. It was raining hard and the sleeping town took me into its dark folds and I did not notice even a twitch. I did however notice,increasingly, as days passed , the little voice in my head, which sometimes screamed so hard, that it hurt my eyes. It told me often, do this-don't do that and it wasn't always easy to toe the line. I wanted to do my Master's in Controls and nothing else. But insisting on what you want, especially when you are in no position to choose means a lot of tiresome waiting. I had to wait for a long long time, before I found a professor who could accommodate my interests. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn't swerve away from my instincts. An emptying cash reserve , an adamant choice and an unknown place kept me on tenterhooks for a long while.
Its amazing what distances do to people. They instantly come face to face with their worst selves. I did too. My fears, nervousness and anguish were too bare and raw to go unnoticed. The way I panicked about finding a thesis project and a means of sustenance surprised me. I've known fear, I only just saw it and it looks very ugly.
Transported into this place, there is only faint resemblance with the girl in the mirror. I am laughing , like never before. Anybody I keep company, cant stop either. I talk to strangers with a warmth, friends haven't known. I fret the way, I never did as a child. I am working like I never was.Was I always like this, or is it a new me , I don't know.
Or maybe, I haven't changed. Only adapted. It isn't a fancy mask, I show off to all my new friends. It is a camouflage. Helps me survive. The spots turn stripes and nails turn antlers. The eyes see fresh sights,the ears pick new sounds. It ain't a mask, not to fool. It is just a camouflage.If it will seep through my skin and outgrow the old and alter my natural bearing. I cannot say.
All I know, is that the day I tore away from my mother , my sister and all my friends, something very pure and delicate ruptured. Some part of me died forever. Like a silkworm's cocoon. I lost something invaluable, never again recoverable. Like a fragment of memory , like a time yet to be.I have evolved and morphed. I got wings, I can fly. But behind the colorful wings and a quiet visage, I still retain an imprint of the days spent at home, in a cocoon.
This mask is just a camouflage.
