Darkness

Posting now this draft which I had left slightly incomplete in 2019. I have retained most of the original essence of the note, only making a few edits and filling in a couple of lines.

About a year ago, on one of the rare occasions I travelled back to Bangalore from home by bus, I as usual decided to put on my earphones and look out the window instead of going to sleep. Although it would have been easier (and much less painful) to drug the extreme discomfort of having to wedge my 6’2″ self into the rear-most window seat of a semi-sleeper KSRTC with sleep, I chose not to because this setting provided a rare opportunity for myself to just be with my thoughts.

Travelling solo by motorbike brings a magical solitude with it, and I love it with all my soul. But I have to admit, I don’t get to indulge in my own thoughts that deeply. Having everything around me breeze past and also having to concentrate on the physical process of riding (though not that Herculean of a task) do take its toll. My mind is not present enough to be absent. My thoughts, in turn, accelerate, and I find myself unable to hitchhike my trains of thought. I have found that the setting in a bus, on the other hand, does allow this for a brief period, just until my fast-paced digital-age mind catches up in its bullet train.

By now, the whole route had been faintly etched in my brain, from repeated travels. NH47—the nice road (not to be confused with NICE road) from the long and straight Coimbatore bypass, till just before the city of Salem—is a road I like to look out on, especially at night. For although during the day I am drawn to bleak things such as the wide and flat tarmac that reflects a sense of emptiness and mechanical routine or the consistently interrupted stretches of peaceful wild lands, during the night these bleak things are curtained in opaque darkness. On some days, the curtains are backlit by the mild and welcoming moonlight.

These curtains give off a sense of deep wonder. The faint outlines are visible—the varied treetops, the dense stretches of wild. It seems as though darkness has taken on form. I am tempted to reach out and touch it. During the day, my eyes trick me into a false sense of security and power. I see and hence am aware of so much, I do not realise just how much I do not see and am not aware of. At night, I am a different man. In fact, I am a boy again. All the bravado gone, I am aware of how vulnerable I am in that moment. Disarmament universally signifies weakness and approaching defeat.

I clearly understand why many tend to avoid darkness. I am aware of the dangers as well. I used to be terrified of the dark as a kid. There are still times when I am terrified by the mostly human evils lurking in the darkness. Nonetheless, I am simply thrilled by darkness. It gets my heart racing almost like a narcotic. It prostrates me to a point where my mind is cleared and my thoughts are calm. It leaves me feeling welcomed and wishing to befriend the denizens of the night.

The night is dark and full of terror. Yet it is to me at times sanctuary. And I find myself embracing it as my closest and dearest oldest friend.