Nomads

Chapter 2, Pt 6- Eruption

“Go back to coaching class?” Nasr asked.

“Nah, go to Bakul?” Subash suggested.

“Sure, we’ll watch a movie.” Nasr said.

Bakul in Cuttack, was a small room made into a little library on private property, opened out for public. Nasr had found out about it by attending poetry jam sessions. Ever since then, it had become one of his favorite places to hang out. It used to open from eight in the morning to eight in the evening. Located beside a small pond, with a big patch of unused field in front of it, it was a beautiful place to spend leisure time.

After hanging out there for about an hour, they got up to leave. Subash dropped him at the coaching center from where Nasr picked his scooter and headed back to his house.

When he got back, he found his mother frantically searching for something in her room. He instantly knew that he was in trouble. Over the years of receiving abuse, restraint, and neglect on almost everything he did, he had learnt the habit of sneaking and lying about many things to his parents. He had even developed the habit to steal money from his parents because he thought that he deserved it. He used to take that money and go away to far off places, when his parents would not even let him go to farther places of the city. He knew that he was doing wrong, his conscience always told him it was wrong, but he used to convince himself that at least he would be at peace.

“Nasr”, his mother asked as he entered the room, “did you take any money from me?”

“Nope”, Nasr said with a straight face bluntly.

“Don’t lie to me!” his mother snapped.

Nasr nodded his head and thought for a moment. He had had enough of his troubles; it was necessary to talk to his parents about his mental condition and how it made him feel.

“Okay Mom, sit down, I’m going to explain everything.” He said calmly.

“I don’t want to listen to any…” His mother’s shouting was interrupted by his calm voice.

“Please sit down and hear me out for once?” Nasr said.

His mother sat down on her bed with an infuriated frown.

“I have been taking money from your cupboard for a long time now.” He confessed, “It’s not that I like doing it, but I have a certain condition in my mind. I don’t know how or why it built up, but I… I need to travel. I need to travel a lot; I just cannot seem to stay in one place. I… I feel suicidal all the times.” His voice broke down and tears formed in his eyes as all the memories of his lonely times in his room, of him feeling suicidal and somehow holding himself back, all the anxiety and rage that he tried to suppress, all the times he had his heart broken, the times when he needed someone but he had to fight alone, came back into his mind. All simultaneously and instantly.

“I… I just cannot hold it. It is so hard for me.” He wept. “I just do not get those thoughts; I even have attempted three suicides. But, travelling, it… it helps me. I am constantly seeing new things, exploring new places. Life feels better when I’m just driving.”

His mother looked at him in utter disbelief, it was all incomprehensible for her.

“When did you attempt…?” she asked, struggling hard to find words.

“My first attempt was when I was ten, I was in the fifth grade.” He wept, constantly wiping his tears which tickled his cheeks.

“But, why?”

“I can’t tell you that.”

“Is it related to some girl, your love life?”

“No! It’s not just that. Why does it always have to be related to my love life?” he said, frustrated of the fact that she never realized that what they had done to him, and all the pressure they had put on him in making life choices had shaped him that way.

“There was a girl too, but it’s not that way. You mock at my travelling desires, and say that everyone wants to travel. But it’s not like that for me! I just cannot breathe properly without doing that. First you forced me into studying science and now you expect my grades to shoot up magically. I’m just not into it. I’m always contemplating what I have to o with my life. I want to be a full-time traveler, like a nomad. Completely lose a hold from everything.” He said.

“What about that girl?” his mother asked.

Nasr sighed, “Nothing, I just loved her too much but she didn’t love me, it was unrequited.” He said.

“Why didn’t you tell us all this if so much was going on in your life?” His mother asked, showing concern.

Nasr just hung his head low, thinking that if he said anything more, it would be turned against him later on; that was the same reason why he did not share his problems with his mother, because she would show support then and then turn his problems into vicious taunts later on. How was he supposed to tell the ones that hurt him, that it was them who made him suicidal? He did not want to do the same and hurt them.

“It’s okay. But don’t do it again, if you feel that way, come and talk to me. I forgive you. But what you have been doing is wrong, stealing is wrong. And going off to far places is too much.” His mother said.

Nasr nodded.

There was a moment of silence as his father entered the room. Nasr started feeling really awkward and left the room.

Nasr was really fond of his father, but they rarely did speak to each other. It was that love and respect of his father that made Nasr never question what he said. He was aware of all the tension and pressure handling business put on his father, so he always tried to prevent showing problems to him. But he knew that his mother would definitely tell his father of what had happened. He was ashamed on himself, but in those moments, it had felt right. He felt like it was compensation of what they had did to him.

He went to his room, anxious and depressed. He opened the notepad app on his phone and began to type. His words flowed like a confused storm of emotions, jotting down his anxiety and depression, typing and deleting sporadically, he shaped his words into a  poem.

Every day I sit in a field of grass,

Plucking the grass as randomly as the life plucks away good moments from us;

Then I try to plant the grass back, with no use, it's already dead.

 

Every day I sit there, sometimes with a group, Sometimes alone,

And I try to comprehend how worthless Human emotions and relations are,

Human has always been a greedy being.

 

Humans always want something that doesn't belong to them

Even though humans are the ones that can understand death to the greatest depth,

They still attach themselves emotionally to the people who have to go at the end of the day.

 

Why do I want to be a nomad? People ask;

Maybe I have understood the fact that I'm not meant to stay,

Not meant for one place, one thing or one person,

Maybe I just don't have the desire to live anymore, but perhaps walking from place to place, from person to person

Will keep me alive; even so, what's the point of being alive?

He breathed a sigh of relief and posted it on his Instagram page in the caption with one of his nature photos.

The next day he woke up peacefully, with little flashbacks of the previous night still lingering in his mind. He got dressed for college, and quietly left the house. In college he met up with Shiv and gang, and again talked about his runaway plan.

That evening, he went with Subash to eat Shawarma at Buxi-Bazaar, where they decided their route.

Nasr had the feeling that his mother had finally understood him, he was relieved.