Have to do something to get out of this mental torture. Life is all about hanging around with all the agony and frustration. Michael thought as he tossed and turned in his bed. Its very hard to fall asleep when there is a heavy traffic in your mind. In fact world war was going inside Michael's head. Its been two days since he was living in that Inn. It was located on the country side.
Michael stood on his feet, hoping all the worries flowed down in to earth. Its not easy to leave your family and stay in an unknown land. He felt shiver down his throat as he thought about his parents. They would be worried, wondering where their son was. Michael opened the beer bottle. There is nothing like beer, that can control traffic jam in your head. 12% alcohol does the job.
Michael slowly sipped from the bottle. He felt better now. One does wonder what on earth does a 22 year old have so much to worry about. It is from social studies of class four that we hear the word Unemployed for the first time. But then we didn't know how torturing the word is. Michael was slowly reaching in to the world where alcohol can take you. He felt more and more light, as if all the burdens from his head were taken off.
Parents provide their children with everything they want, but their expectation in return remain as burden on children's head. He could still remember the expression on his mother's face when he told her that he wanted to become a writer. "There is no money in writing", she came out with a statement. "There is neither money in poetry, nor poetry in money", a beautiful quote immediately struck him.
To be a writer is a condition rather than profession. Almighty opens the door to truth, when one becomes the writer. Everything flows out of your pen like magic, thereafter. It was not that he wanted to change the world with writing, he just enjoyed doing it. He had found his existence through the expression through words. It is beautiful!
He took the last sip from the bottle. The ambiance from the surroundings was terrific. It further enhanced the drink. The bar was well lit up. Blue was the predominant color. There were a few paintings hanging on the wall. He had a look at all those paintings. As usual a naked woman was subject of all the paintings. He wondered if a naked woman was the most beautiful thing in the world. It had dominated all major art form for centuries. One of the women reminded him of his first love.
Alcohol along with the painting was taking him away from the problem. But there is no point in running away. One needs to face it. Hardest thing is when you wake up in the morning and think what you are going to do. People will keep coming with the killer question " What's next?". Some of them just need a look, to remind you, that you are unemployed. It seems all these people were employed since birth. Most of the unemployed minds are occupied with plans. You keep planning the whole day what you are going to do. But all you end up is in devil's workshop, with your idle mind. Or you could end up in Bar with your friends, who too are unemployed. Everybody compete with each other to become the best loafer. You might grow your hair or might not take bath for month to look hippy. You will be the superficial rebel at best. If none of the above happen, surely you might end up watching serials with your mom!. Its the time when u notice the things which you wouldn't have otherwise. You will know, in which class your younger sibling is studying. How the seconds hand move in the clock. How cool your dad's mustache is. How beautiful your house maid is!
The bottle was finished. Michael felt as light as a balloon. He looked around. The waiter had been looking at him for a long time. He felt annoyed. One comes to bar to have privacy. What the hell was his problem? Michael wanted to have a crack at him. To further surprise him, the waiter came closer. He was very thin. Michael could easily pin him on to the floor. But he couldn't even lift his arm now. He was feeling dizzy.
Waiter had something in his hands. It looked like a newspaper. Michael wondered why on the earth, did the waiter want him to read the news, that too at midnight. Suddenly a column got his attention.
"22 year old missing for last 3 days!". God damn it!, below the caption was his photograph.
To be a writer is a condition rather than profession. Almighty opens the door to truth, when one becomes the writer. Everything flows out of your pen like magic, thereafter. It was not that he wanted to change the world with writing, he just enjoyed doing it. He had found his existence through the expression through words. It is beautiful!
He took the last sip from the bottle. The ambiance from the surroundings was terrific. It further enhanced the drink. The bar was well lit up. Blue was the predominant color. There were a few paintings hanging on the wall. He had a look at all those paintings. As usual a naked woman was subject of all the paintings. He wondered if a naked woman was the most beautiful thing in the world. It had dominated all major art form for centuries. One of the women reminded him of his first love.
Alcohol along with the painting was taking him away from the problem. But there is no point in running away. One needs to face it. Hardest thing is when you wake up in the morning and think what you are going to do. People will keep coming with the killer question " What's next?". Some of them just need a look, to remind you, that you are unemployed. It seems all these people were employed since birth. Most of the unemployed minds are occupied with plans. You keep planning the whole day what you are going to do. But all you end up is in devil's workshop, with your idle mind. Or you could end up in Bar with your friends, who too are unemployed. Everybody compete with each other to become the best loafer. You might grow your hair or might not take bath for month to look hippy. You will be the superficial rebel at best. If none of the above happen, surely you might end up watching serials with your mom!. Its the time when u notice the things which you wouldn't have otherwise. You will know, in which class your younger sibling is studying. How the seconds hand move in the clock. How cool your dad's mustache is. How beautiful your house maid is!
The bottle was finished. Michael felt as light as a balloon. He looked around. The waiter had been looking at him for a long time. He felt annoyed. One comes to bar to have privacy. What the hell was his problem? Michael wanted to have a crack at him. To further surprise him, the waiter came closer. He was very thin. Michael could easily pin him on to the floor. But he couldn't even lift his arm now. He was feeling dizzy.
Waiter had something in his hands. It looked like a newspaper. Michael wondered why on the earth, did the waiter want him to read the news, that too at midnight. Suddenly a column got his attention.
"22 year old missing for last 3 days!". God damn it!, below the caption was his photograph.
