The Dots…

It must have been a while I guess, since I had been staring at the table cloth, sitting at the dining table. At least the exasperated call of my name that finally made me look up suggested so. I was supposed to say something sensible I assumed, in the ongoing conversation. Without a clue of what I had missed all this while staring at the table cloth I mumbled something about doing the right thing at the right time, even if one doesn’t feel too good doing it. I didn’t miss the cold stare I got from across the table, but it’s been a long time since I have trained myself to avoid that. Realizing I could again excuse myself from the drab of hollow words, I got back to the table cloth again.

I think we bought it about a year back. And though it was laid on the table in circulation with the other table cloths, it had been laid out pretty often. But until now I had never observed the detailing of the design on its white base, specially those tiny white dots on golden background on the sides. I tried to imagine how it would have been when we had bought it. Look at the cloth, the color, the design, compare with a few around, and buy it. Once bought and home, lay it on the table to a few careless glances at something out of routine in the room until it too becomesย  part of the routine. I then tried to imagine the feelings of its creator. He must have given the greatest of care to the minutest of details. The cloth, the colors, the overall design, the orientation of each and every tiny petal printed on the cloth, and those white dots on slight golden background on the sides that forced me into thinking so much. What did he do it for? If only he knew that on a plain dry day, a loner trying to shut a few people and voices out of her mind would by chance notice his long created design, would he have taken so much pain? Probably it’s way too pointless to be even pointed out. Probably, even the creator made it to be simply laid on a table unnoticed. After all it’s just a table cloth, not a deep meaning painting by one of those famous painters. That would have been treated so much more differently. Every stroke scrutinized and delved over by the art lovers. Every aspect of the painter’s intent discussed.

“Look, I would never approve of it and that’s that. Please try to make him understand it’s so wrong of him to even think of all this!”… I had missed the part before this, but was expected to speak something now, the paragon of wisdom that I am. I don’t understand if it’s right to judge everything as right or wrong. I don’t even know if there’s a thing that’s universally right or wrong. I don’t know if it’s right to do something that’s said to be right even if it devastates your world. Something inside tells me its not, but the voice is too muffled to be clearly heard, so I’m not sure. The eyes were probing into my own, and I had to deliver an answer. “Of course”, I said, looking across the table, confronting the cold, defiant stare for the first time.

Defiance is good I thought to myself, approvingly. It’s indicative that one’s still alive, can speak and be heard…

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14 thoughts on “The Dots…

  1. u know what? this is it which brings me to ur page almost daily…
    when in flow you can work wonders with words even on something too trivial as dots (well, they mayn’t be as trivial if the dots are white with golden background at the sides ;P)
    but the sad part is you are getting lazier by the day – did u notice that the intervals between ur successive posts have been steadily increasing.
    This may not be of any consequence to you but to you readers, of course it is!

    Am back in Delhi and realising that over 10 years of absence from my home-city I have completely lost touch with its winters – enjoying the chill but with a fear ๐Ÿ™‚

  2. u could have avoided the flood only if you’d have kept up with your visits. You were among a few bloggers whose comments got posted without my approval at my blog on blogsome. But since the time you decided to show up once in a blue moon, the blogsome asks me if the comment be posted – blogsome seems to have myopic memory ๐Ÿ˜‰

    So, keep writing and keep visting!

  3. Right and Wrong doesn’t exists in isolation. It’s all relative.

    Sometimes it’s confusing while choosing the path and the sole reason for it is thinking in isolation.

    Think in totality.

    Black and White are in itself mixtures of several colours.

  4. @Tejbir
    Thanks for your visit and appreciation of an otherwise bizzare post…But I can understand… Given the circumstances, you must be liking everything around…
    And I’ll try being more regular with your blog ๐Ÿ™‚

    @Harshit
    Very rightly said… ๐Ÿ™‚

  5. Yeah…Routine it becomes to the point of ignoring the obvious..

    Getting lost can be taken for granted then just like i got lost here.. Unless of course one is careful enough to lay out speed breakers like- ‘the paragon of wisdom that I am. ‘

    !??!

    ๐Ÿ˜›

    On second thoughts.. I think i can support that.. for laying the speedbreakers! ๐Ÿ˜‰

  6. well, if its been ages for me then its definitely been aeons for you!!!

    come on, write about “dashes” now after the dots and complete the Morse Code LOL ๐Ÿ˜€

  7. @Tejbir
    How mean!!!
    (and witty I have to admit) ๐Ÿ˜€

    I am so out of thoughts yaar…so blanked out that all I can write is a post full of blank spaces! ๐Ÿ˜‰

    1. Thanks a lot for digging so deep and reaching here. ๐Ÿ™‚
      I had to read the piece again before responding. ‘Twas so long ago. There’s so much grammar shouting for correction too!

      Thanks for reading and appreciating, it’s very encouraging.

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