He sat there on his chair pulled up right close to the wall, just besides the open window. Two large portraits hung on the wall just above the window. As he looked outside the window, with his face pressed to it, he could almost smell the rusty odor of the iron bars across the wooden window. His room was dark, with his tube lights off, a faint light from the nearby street light fell on his slightly pale face, the droopy old bald guy seem to have a glowing face with eyes behind a pair of almost thick glasses. The light coming into the room cast a shadow of diagonal parallel bars on his otherwise straight face. He sat there in the darkness of his own room.
“Amit” his mom screamed, “Will you open that stupid window of yours, it stinks in here, where will the air come from if you always keep the windows closed?, I hate to enter your room!”.
Amit shouted back at her “Who asks you to come in, you need not. You can leave all my stuff at the door, and I shall pick up, this is my room”
Amit’s mom walks back still continuing to vent her frustration for her highly disobedient son.
As he sat there gazing upon the far horizon, with a face as calm as an innocent lamb, scenes from his youth flashed before his eyes.
His line of sight slowly lowered, and fell upon the people walking by on a not so busy street. He saw people of all ages, making their journeys through life. Some animated self talkers, some calm and slow sloggers, some who seem to have hit the jackpot of happiness, and others who seem to consider themselves to be the personification of sorrow if there ever was one. He was having an amazing time, letting his imagination go crazy, with the possible stories of anyone who walked passed the street, Even with all the excitement, he sat there almost expression less.
“Amit, Why do you keep yourself shut in that dingy room of yours?, and why do you hate socializing so much?, you got to get out, meet people, if not outside house atleast the ones who come visit us”, You could see that Amit’s mom was really angry this time around, the green vein showed up on her forehead.
Amit had never been a people person, no he was not an introvert, nor did he suffer from anthropophobia, but still he never enjoyed meeting people, the earlier days where he preferred himself to other people, flashed before his eyes, as he continued to enjoy the one way interaction with thousand of faces, and a lovely imagery journey his mind was undergoing at the moment.
The power cut which seemed to have caused the darkness in the room ended, and the lights came on, he could see a shadow of his wife walking up to his room, with a cup of coffee in her hand. He took the coffee from her hand, and began to sip it. A little cold, a little too sweat, and a little too light to his taste, he sipped along as he remembered his days from youth where he would have shouted at his mom for making the coffee just the way he didn’t like. Amit finished his coffee, stood up and walked out to his usual walk.