She left his cave silently. As silently as he had brought her in. She couldn’t figure out the reasons for entering into that enclosure. ‘Claustrophobic,’ she remembered that about herself, yet she had walked into that small space, suffocating, closing in, sucking the life out of her.

She felt humiliation, anger, guilt, no desire, and certainly not love; or was it really love and expectations that had stirred those emotions in her soul and made her world go upside down?

She kept on walking, brisk walking, or was she running? In the darks of the night, hiding away from the world or running from her own questioning mind?

She took off her shoulder bag and threw it in no particular direction. It landed at the far end of the road with a thump. She didn’t care; she wanted to get rid of the weight. But was the backpack heavy or was it her conscience weighing heavily down on her?

Stuck.

Dead end.

Heavy breathing, her hands on her knees, bending down, trying to draw the air in, fearing that her life had come to an end.

All her mind could see was the mild street light, elongated shadows, her own sobs, sweat beads dropping on the rough road pavement, the smell of tar, construction, renovation, heavy machine sounds and her desperate tries to draw the air in. Was she drowning?

Her life needed reconstruction like those decade old roads, with potholes and grooves, she needed a touch of tar as well, to fill up those gaps, to reconstruct her damaged self.

She finally looked up, threw her head back, feeling helpless, she shouted out loud, “O Lord! Help this helpless soul!”

Then she laughed, the laugh of a madman. Was there even a god that cared, that listened? She didn’t believe in one.

Alone.

Desperate.

Desolated.

No path to follow. No road to travel.

Carefree. Wasn’t that how the world referred to the confused like her?

To the ones who had no answers and just questions?

The ones who knew that knowledge was a curse.
The ones who knew that there was no definition of knowing.

The ones who searched for the truth while laughing at the irony of not even knowing what really describes ‘truth.’

What really was ‘reality’? The laws of nature, the physical world or just a mere rational thinking mind? The mind that Descartes argued for.

Confusion.

Desperation.

Churning wheels of the rusted philosophical mind.

Creaking sounds, squeaking louder and louder, production yet no produce.

Isn’t that what a philosophical mind is all about?

It’s active, always, yet there are no apparent results for the world to see, for the capitalists to make money from, for the politicians to chart out rules to follow.

There are no results, for this mind knows not that what results it seeks.

It’s a continuous journey, a never-ending road, with loneliness, no companion and no destination to arrive at.

Her legs gave in, she fell down, and she lied on her back. Staring at the starless night, trying to search for those stars hidden far away, dependent on the light to be visible. The stars that people once believed hold your destiny. If only she believed in one, if only her mind didn’t question ‘determinism’ and ‘free will.’ If only she was ignorant and could follow those black and white rules. If only she could.

She closed her eyes, hoping desperately for the sleep to take over.

Humming away in the middle of the night, begging the wind to bring simplicity back and take away the complexities. She lied there, humming sweetly, dissolving her voice, her spirit, her soul, away in the darks of the night. The darkness she believed would take over everything one day.

If only she knew if time was real or was time another illusion like her philosophy books argued.

If only she could simply feel and not think of the contradictions that drove her to madness.

If only she could know what love was.

If only she didn’t analyze what his touch meant.

If only she wouldn’t have run away, or was it inevitable after all.

If only she could simplify those things or accept them in their complexity.

If only she could…

Author: Saniya Zahid