The two stories

I started feeling little bit better. I am not anymore annoyed with the weather, people, being too hot, not having enough breeze at noon... I calmed down and stopped over-thinking. I even eat more (okay maybe not more since it's too hot but at least my appetite is back).

Today I went to my room to take an afternoon nap. I thought I'm calm and closed my eyes. Suddenly it hit me. I saw his face and started missing him. Again.

As I write these words I got interrupted (as always... remember, in India you are never alone). An old, very dark man with dreadlocks which run down almost to the floor, approached me. My new neighbour.

The first thing he said to me was: 'The place is beautiful but it is always about the people.' I realized the people are indeed nice here (I mean the backpackers living around me) but somehow I didn't want to hang out with them. There is a Greek man with a strong Canadian accent, a hot-headed Italian who teaches yoga, a British guy (actually there are two of them but I do get confused) who is constantly drunk, or stoned, or both. A Russian old man, and a young girl (I think Ukrainian but she talks Russian.) It's all about the vibe they send. I didn't feel like socialising with any of them, I run away when spotting them in the restaurant, I felt uneasy when they touched me. And at first I thought it's me. Not entirely. It's about feeling I got from them, the energy they are sending. But with Swami- the dreadlocks guy- it was entirely different. As he was standing beside my door and we have exchanged the usual talk (such as How long are you staying in Gokarna? First time in India? Where are you from and what is your name?) I immediately put down my notebook and invited him to sit down. He somehow reached my soul, brought trust inside me. Drops of that trust started rushing through my body as a cooling water entering your corpse on a hot Indian day.

So what was I writing before?

Oh yes, the daydream. The painful realization that I am all alone and the one person I want to touch me is not here nor he would ever touch me the way I would like him to. His eyes will forever stay empty. I'm not begging for his love, and I am most certainly not expecting anything from him. I'm expecting something from myself. I want to be able to stop thinking too much and never to cry again when alone. Why does love hurts? Why does it hurt each time differently? ....

So this is where the two stories intersect.

As Swami was sitting here he asked me to give him my left hand. That he could read from it. At first, I paused with a disbelieve. Somehow strangers touching me became too personal for me as if the people are invading my personal space, seeing me naked or reading my deepest thought. (And please do note that I have no idea why this became such an issue for me; usually it would be mentally related to some abusive experience from one's past. Nothing of that sort has happened to me. ) After the pause I relaxed. 

Then he started reading from my hand and told me it'll take me him an hour and he'll know all my secrets. I replied that I don't mind since I don't believe in it anyway. I thought it might be a good idea now before I tell him too much about me.

OK this is finally when the two stories meet. Swami showed me my life line then a spot I got below my index finger and said something about my job and studies. I didn't care much since I already mentioned something about this. Then he pointed at a little line and asked me how many are there. 

'I don't know, one big one, should I count the small ones too?' I answered.

'I don't have my glasses, you must tell me..,'

I told him. Apparently this means I had one big love of my life. Bollocks. 

Then he had to go.

I definitely want him to read my hand again. Perhaps to amuse myself, perhaps I'll discover I indeed believe in reading one's life from one's palm. And because I've been just thinking about my sorrow and unfortunate love life, I found this as an interesting coincidence. This short experience made a smile on my face, brought sun into my day. And day by day I feel better, stronger, more confident, and most of all, happier. There is no goal we are trying to reach - we all are born, live and then must die. That is the whole goal of our life, the whole purpose you might say. But what matters is the journey. How you live your life. I know you most definitely already heard all this stuff, yet I'm pretty sure that you did not fully accepted it. By accepting it you can start living and not only surviving. Enjoy every day, take a deep breath, smile at people, look at the sky for a bit. Because these are the things which actually matters.