Touch

Touch

I've been thinking of writing something on this topic. Don't know what compelled me to write this but the mere recall of the word reminds me of the power it posesses.

Its been a very bad day. When the day started I was in no mood of going to office. Still I dragged myself to office. I've been flooded with work for last 4-5 months. In last 2-3 years i haven't slept like a baby. Everyday starts with a rush and ends in a tension about one thing or the other. Days have been stressful, nights have been short. And I've been sad today. With all this in mind I closed my eyes.

I was hurt that day. In the usual childhood games I just fell off while running. And when I returned home crying, mama took me in her lap, washed my hands and feet and sat with me in the bed. She brought some oil to rub in my head. No I wasn't hurt in my head, but it relieved my whole body... whole mind. And I forgot all the worries all the pain. And I slept. I miss those sleeps. i miss that touch that rub in the head by mama's hands.

With no words spoken I wish I could lie down in her lap with her hands on my head. The mere thought of that touch gave me a teardrop and took away all the stress and discomfort in my mind... so what if it lasted for no more than a split second.

And then I have to decide my future. I have to write exams, get to the top. I have to run. But I am so bored of it all. I just want to sit back and relax. And I want to let things go. But then I feel the touch of those hands holding my fingers.

"Don't you want to go to get milk today"? And i jumped off my bed to get ready at 5 o'clock in the morning to go with Papa to get the milk.My father used to go some 2-3 kms in the morning to get milk for us. He used to say that this milk is much better than what is delivered at home. And I always dreamt of going with him. So I was made to get stuffed inside layers of sweaters and a big monkey cap to survive the january of Faridabad. And I held his hands from over the homemade gloves, dark brown colored for him and my favourite light pink and black coloured designer one for me. And I asked him virtually every possible question throughout the way onward, back and when we collected milk. And he replied to every question of mine leading me slowly to the destination...

I wish he could lead me now also.

I remained quite silent today. My colleagues told me that I was very slow today. Didn't work at all but I was least concerned. When my lead came to me for some discussion in the afternoon the first thing she said was that I looked to be in a bad shape. And I agreed to it... No I am not feeling ill or something. Physically I am absolutely fine. But I am mentally tired. And then I climbed stairs to get a cup of tea for myself. I was so slow on steps. And I looked outside the window. I wished it rained, like it used to rain those days.

And then that day when hailstones fell, my sister and I went out into the verandah, and opened our arms to embrace the hailstones. There always was an untold sense of competition developed between us for anything and everything. Who gets a hailstone first. And I shouted madly for god to give it to me first. But then she got it first. And when I grew sad, she came to me and slipped the small pearl like piece of hailstone in my hands. That was one cold but comforting touch of an elder sister as if saying don't worry I am there.

And when I reached upstairs, I wish my sister was there with me. And we could sit on the office rooftop for hours... no not fighting this time but talking... to pass on the very same cold but comforting sense of touch.

I have close to 200 friends in my orkut friend list. some aquaintance of mine said I have lots of friends. I used to think perhaps he's right. But still I log on to orkut only if i get a scrap. And least do i care to go to other friends' profile and write a scrap. And it was one usual hectic morning when I logged into orkut to check scraps and I had a new friend request. And I grew so happy as if I had found one long lost friend... It was my brother...

Last december I went to mumbai to meet bhaiya and friends (anurag n anurag). I bought a T-Shirt for him stuffed it in my bag. No excitement or something... just that I was happy to get away from bangalore atleast for few days. And then he was there at the airport... He's always been the same... Right from the time when i recognized that we existed... he was some one feet longer than me... I still think he's some one feet longer than me. Though physically he's half a feet shorter. For two days we'd been talking. No it wasn't anything special.. We talked of just anything... Career, life, family, mumbai, friends just anything. And like always I talked very less. And when I went out with friends I wished I had stayed with him. Don't know why. And then came the time when I had to leave for bangalore. And I just thought why can't I stay back. And then before departing, we shook our hands... as if I had come for some business visit. But the touch was different. I can still make out the difference between that handshake and any other.

I wish I get time to go there again.

There's something I learned the day I left home. Being lonely or surrounded is always upto us. We can be lonely with hundreds of people and be surrounded even without a single physical presence. And today in the office I felt lonely though my cubicle is in the middle surrounded by people.

And I wished I could turn around to find that someone who could extend her hand at me to comfort me. I wished I could feel the warmth of that touch which could unconditionally extend the comfort to my soul... And I wished she could recognize every impression of my hands and gives an answer in the form of the warm touch of her hands. I wished she stayed with me always... Forever and ever and ever.

I wish I could feel the power of any touch of these at the times I grow sad.