Heads and Tails.

He lived in a porsche neighbourhood of Edinburgh, the Bruntsfield. Perched on the grass of the tree lined park. Thousands and more of ideas invariably shifted through his little head. What was perhaps more surprising , was the hush descence. He did begin to appreciate the life that the neighbourhood offered. It was an oasis of calm and pleasant atmosphere and comfortability. We have a once in a lifetime opportunity and you might be clad, smart of suit and sleek of hair but if you have no idea how things work in different places , you might be more of a drop in the ocean. Not a chance to be any different thereof. And things change really first, and he had no idea. 

If you don’t trust the source be one. Haven’t stepped in space ,you always wonder : how does it feel like being there,what really happens. Hoping always hoping that, one day you will have a better clue an understanding at least, a chance to be somehow the one to tell .It was a steady stream of people that predicted a daunting exercise that it was going to be. A little before five minutes to 8:00 p.m in the evening. He was standing at The Ambasador bus station. He had circumvented the town just to avoid the pushing ,the shoving the jostling and once or twice bumping into unconcerned and at times rather hostile individuals who cared less how or where or when one would fall if there were no such thing as luck as to lose their ground.

He was in disbelief and of a weary heart as it dawned on him that,what he was seeing was in all sense reality . Dozens of people pushed their way through the small door just to find themselves a seat in the bus ; seats that which had absolutely no intention whatsoever of ever running away.In that moment of adrenaline and strained hope he saw a friend. A lady he respected and treated with a lot of humility . Its then that he realized, it was time. Time to learn, time to toughen up and time to get used to a different sort of living. Life in the attractive leafy neighbourhood was something he had thought of in his first year and second and third. But now things were much more different and difficult were times and thus it was wise to let go. He was ready to let go, yet still it was going to be a war. In fact he still caught himself wondering what he was thinking. 

In the bus, he sat in the middle his friend to the right and a person he believed was bigger than the two of them to the left. Moments later when the bus engine wared on, he knew that home was not far away but it was clear it was obviously going to look like it . It was unusually different in all fronts , his first sitting in the middle . He listened to the extraordinary mix of sounds . The horns and the chatting of the people outside and those on the inside, there was a lot of commotion everywhere in town . Sitting there, there was a little sense of not being able to understand anything. It was strange and somehow an air of nervousness crept in. As the bus roared though the town he clutched his hands to his face in search of respite. And inside, his eyes widened. 

The person to the left kept him guesing as he could see him from the corner of his eye, again and again looking at their direction mischievously. Precisely the behaviour he associated with those who rarely rely on minding their own damn bloody business. He felt a nudge alittle quesy and an air of disgust at such unbecoming behaviour. He wondered if like him, his friend knew of the development and somewhat felt the very dense air of uncomfortablity he felt about the whole situation and again he couldn’t see the difference between his thoughts and the persons behaviour. Perhaps it was just paranoia or something to do with being cautious. He was a person of similar virtues as of the members of the secret intelligence  . Schooled in the instincts, wiles, individual capabilities, and competencies and characteristics of  criminals. He had every right to be wary. And every reason to adapt. 

The thing with such situations is that, they are the most filled with an awful lot of nothingness to say. It’s always a gamble and a great deal of fumble to keep relevancy in check . Lucidity therefore sometimes, very much in the wind. The journey was not entirely silent for them though, they talked about anything, and this and that and what they could let slip didn’t fail to slip off their tongue. It was well past 8:30 p.m when people started disembarking from the bus, an indication that his life inside the bus was soon to be in the past. And still he didn’t even know the exact place he would alight . The thought of it made his stomach churn and he wondered if the grumbling was to be heard, then what? . He tried miserably glancing across his friend keen not to throw in, any suspicion as to his distress. Somehow he couldn’t help but wonder, could she be having any idea? Well that was for the imaginative part of his brain. 

A cheery thought maybe, better the last should be. The worst last should come. It was a neutron stellar collision when he realised he was way past his place.  Enveloped by a black hole when he stumbled across a pull of water as he rushed to find his way home. As he was walking he could not help but debate within himself. Was he just weak or it was his inability to stick it into his head that there was no such thing as privilege he was used to . All that can fit within the compass of human understanding, the nature of things, as they are in themselves, he felt there was something in everything. There was a question lingering, a question that was the whisper of every sleeping thing. The answer remains a fertile area of research and discussion. 

Anything to suggest affluence may do, but with an unexpected paradigm shift it may just fall short. There is an incredible and possibly desperate need to look dispassionately at the possibilities that can illuminate and might eventually eliminate the idea that only certain things are worth living for. “Listen,” we should tell the world .”I get off in a flinch . Sit in the back. I’ll see you then.” It is quite important stating that for the benefit of transition one has to practically forget something old to chance something new. And now that there is that handy bit of information, we can bring ourselves to the understanding that a few wonders of the world only exist while there are those with the eyes to see. It is never about what you can or cannot do, it is never about what someone doesn’t or does have. It’s definitely not about where and when someone was who . It is but content in oneself and chancing the idea that anything that you put your mind to, there is a high possibility it will work . It is equally not measurability of the shortcomings and such. Regrets and pangs of the past only slows the wheels of growth. The world is never static it is constantly changing . At that point when you always know you definitely messed up. You push it into your gut how badly you have done. He reached home not howling with joy at that, but at the fact he could see much better that his problem was little appreciation for small things. Something overly unpleasant.

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