Declaration of Disconnection

That winding road leads you to an arena where you can see some of the most brain twisting décor. Looking up at the sky means rocking back on your heels and succumbing to a swirl of stars and Shivas. It was windy that night, and there was a big group of happy people. Obviously. Hilight Tribe. And performing at a place always and aptly described as “not a place, but a state of the mind”. The music was ethnic, almost tribal with western musical beats. With an electronic twist.

My favourite music memory has long been attached to a tune of the unity in the mythological universe by this group of musicians. The memory is reminiscent of friendships shared in the past with people, who are so different in personality, but completely at one because of love for similar music. You know how there always is some one who can read your face and know what you are thinking. Well. Imagine at least six other people, together, who can do that! Imagine what a confusion of knowledge of character, unrefined by social norms connect these people. Imagine when they come together after months for the union of two amongst them for holy matrimony.

Yeah dude, they got married! I’m not going to go into details. That’s best left for filing away in my mind’s memories. Let’s just say it had the ultimate elements of mad moments weaved in with being in the state of constant laughter. Leaving is never heartbreaking because now there is a sense of acceptance that time has moved on, and that that carefree lifestyle is possible for a few days of disconnected reality. But you are unrealistically dependent on it for some peace. It’s good to drop your defences and indulge in the luxury of not having to voice every thought because the people with you know it as you are thinking it. It’s good to indulge in some silence and just give in to the sway of a peculiar kind of trust & love. It comes naturally, like being at ‘home’.

Which is the ultimate luxury. It’s a lifestyle upgrade to surreal privileges like tea in bed and internet when you please.  It’s nice to wake up in a super squashy bed and smile because there’s a pudgy PP rolling on the carpet. Another indulgence of memoria. Seeing the new, smiling at the familiar, easing into the old. It feels as good as sinking into a comfortable chair. Limbs akimbo. Complete soul satisfaction! And to top it all, a weird sense of connection and acceptance with people who’s youth you have always been curious about. To know that they have been rebellious in their own right when younger, and to want to ape all that’s awesome about them. Fine! Alright! The rings too ok Ma. It’s great to sink into the feeling - there is always a place, whenever you want to hide from the world and snuggle in a blanket and watch reality dance TV.

More chances for blissful solace at a farewell celebration of good times spent together in the company of puzzle perfect people. It is always an interesting thing when two very different people perfectly fit into each other’s personality and their friendship is based on a completely comfortable understanding of the other’s silences. These celebrations were simply stepping into worlds of Robot-dancing-man. The graceful elfin girl. The Tuesday Tripping auntie. Khoya Khoya Chand to Mapusa. Human Nature. Jaw dropping reactions from a rustic recluse.  The love day special heart pumping beats helping the hippies in harmony. Blue smoke in white moonlight. The weighty knowledge that these moments can never be recreated all the while laughing and living new ones. To give up the old comfort of someone who understands your need to disconnect from reality to ease into the thought universe created by music is a swift moment of grief when you suddenly want to make eye contact at a specific moment. Or tell them about the weird white surf trying to grab your ankles. Or the lost trip to Morjim. A few rare specimens of people remain with whom you don’t have to desperately seek humor or intelligence in what they say. None remain of the hippies trippies with whom you can just flash a smile of bubbling happiness while hopping around the sandy floor of shifting people.

Till there are more like the one’s I miss, it’s time to disconnect. It’s time to lose myself in music. And reading. And solitude. Barring work requirements of using technology I refuse to accept of this eerily inquisitive lifestyle that is being thrust upon me. At work I am required to be a lean, mean, efficient machine. There is even a long exhausting flight of stairs up to office to help prepare for the ‘lean’ bit. Henceforth, life outside of work will mean that the internet will serve the sole purpose of reading blogs and comics. And sometimes downloading. I have spent too many harrowing moments trying to keep track of people’s phone texts, facebook messages, emails and calls. It’s not like I don’t care. It’s just a dislike of being available to everyone at all times. I will move house, claim a space for my solitude, and disappear. It has been a mind blowing month. Music. Marriage. Family. Friends. Farewells. It is now time to switch off, disconnect, and disappear.