Friday, October 4, 2013

Deserted and weeded buildings

Deserted and weeded, there lies an abandoned building’. When I was a cub reporter, I have done several stories, which had similar introductions. I was quite adept in identifying such buildings in the nook and cranny of the city and in the suburban. However, that ended when my boss dismissed those stories saying “No more stories on dilapidated buildings. You can do much better.”

Two months ago, I came across an abandoned house (not a building this time). It is a small house but built with a keen architectural eye with many trees and flowering plants around. Going by its looks, it might have housed by a decent family once. Now it lay abandoned. A small sculpture of Lord Krishna playing flute could be seen at the top of the entrance through the window grill. It evoked in me mixed emotions but was unable to discern it. I felt a kind of magnetic pull towards it and started  taking the route of this house though it was not my usual one. 

Was my love for abandoned buildings coincidental which eventually became stories for the journalist in me. The tempt was too strong that it forced me to peep into myself.

Looking back, I realised this new-found emotion was not new but old. At the outset, I thought, may be it was the yearning for having secrets which allured me towards the mysteries of such desolate places.  I never had any secrets throbbing to pull out of my bosom. I badly wanted to keep one. May be, it is this secretive nature of such deserted houses that enticed me towards it. When I was growing up, my imaginations were too tall ( and still it is) that it could accommodate any back drop, people or anything of my fantacies. I would imagine myself doing all the possible things from unravelling a mystery to having a clandestine love affair. I have written many mystery novellas sitting in these desolate houses. I have travelled to several unknown lands with my knight in armour.

But wanting secrets was purely a superficial reason. When I scratched the surface more I comprehended that it was my earnest attempt to wade into my loneliness and build a more secure space. To create a strong space which no one can intrude. This secure space would make me resilient and fight all the odds by providing answers.

I am 31 and I do not have any best friends in whom I could confide and rely. May be this vacuum might have led me to build a space for my own. If I am confused, I would hide in this world of imagination. I used to grope in the darkness of my secure space but not for long. I could always see a  lightened candle at the end. I always got my answers from my secure space. It has helped me to cut my own path, to be myself and proceed ahead. Thanks to those desolate houses and buildings which is making my dreams come true.


KParthasarathi said...

Your fascination for desolate dilapidated buildings could stem from your innate desire to know the unknown,to unravel the mysteries around such places and to get the thrill tinged with fear as you discover what lay behind.
It could also be the inner craving for a secure place where you would have a life of happiness and contentment.Nicely written
To me uninhabited dilapidated houses signify imaginary ghosts and material for short stories!!

Anita said...

What a great job and story - interpreting and self analysing.

So where do you go from here; or do you continue to have the comfort of your metaphorical abandoned buildings?

Shalet Jimmy said...

I don't think I will ever abandon the comfort of my metaphorical buildings. I will chase it with my foot firm in reality. It is wonderful. :D

Amrit Sinha said...

Sometimes exploration is the best form of living life ... if you are attracted towards something, just explore and dig deeper into it :-)