There she was, clad in her favorite chaste white chiffon dress ,trying to save herself from the occasional mud slush that projectiled towards her from the tyres of cars that had to drive through this monsoon. It was overcast and the clouds seem to promise more shower.
She stood at the crossroads undecided where to go. Sunday should be spent with friends and family but in case of non availability of both, one should engage in productive activities like reading , exercising and doing good to the society. But for the moment she fancied nothing. It was as if nothingness had its own beauty. If it were corporate debt restructuring or the ensuing recession or the presidential elections or cooking maybe, some logic would have gotten into it. For now, watching traffic seemed be a productive activity too. The end products were more subtle but they exist nonetheless. For example she could now spot the latest model of the latest fancy automobile in the town.
Nothingness is delusional maybe, she thought and moved onto the next coffee shop. Maybe coffee was not nothingness, it was made to fill up for all empty spaces. The shop was bustling with people and she could not understand this sudden fetish amongst people to stay out on a Sunday morning. Quiet places are extinct like drinking water with adequate BOD. She found a small place by the window, table for two she thought. Virginia slims and Arabic coffee should do for the day. Drizzle, coffee and a notepad without music. Ideal it seems. Thoughts came in and evaporated and humdrum continued.
Maybe nothingness never exists or even if it does we just give it names and forms and shapes. For some its loneliness but for some it is bliss. What about that imaginary voice in her head. All the past days of all the past years have been translated into so many events but this stopover seems like complete in so many ways. For example she does not have to worry about who killed whom in the latest sci-fi movie or who invented what or who has the latest gadget with him.
Maybe nothingness is an algorithm to kill time. Why dont you paint or write or network, is what her dear friend would have said. She would have then gotten into a never ending conversation and then gone off to read something. But in absence of everything and presence of nothingness, its was just that old notepad and she.Nothingness is bliss after all.
