Most books begin existing in the writer's mind first; then on paper and then in the reader's head and so on. Somewhere if the process is fortuitous, it is not robbed of its essence. However it is difficult to articulate how some people can easily give words to thoughts and names to things. This story and this book is intended for people who don't find it that easy. You will find here the same confusions in naming and expression that you face in finding your way through a new city without knowing its language. Know that it is as alien to me as is to you.
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It was a strange weather in her mind. Like the phrase "big waves of the ocean" can often be used to describe indigestion of the stomach, she now could feel the churning the mind and the heart. The body does not digest uncertainty let alone the mind. Words that were once friends of hers, came rushing to the tongue of the brain and then stood shocked and blank at the crossword puzzle of the situations in her life. When they were called upon for a simple task, they banished themselves and when least prepared, eloquence ramp walked in the midst of a beggar crowd.
Her understanding of the word - ‘sanity’, was losing itself in the myriad colours and forms of life. Often relationships, places, food or even clothes changed yet the uncertainty persisted. A faint sense of disease, disquiet and irritation sang through much of her daily routine and she felt like giving up every other hour or so. The sense of not belonging anywhere and wanting to be everywhere pervaded her conscience constantly. Almost everything begun was already on the verge of giving up itself in the face of her fluctuating apathy and passion. Stories started tumbling themselves into dead-ended mishaps and the sense of time started pressing itself upon the windows of the mind with cheeky triumph of having defeated her again in the past, present and future. A sense of helplessness and loss of control, no matter justified through the existence of God, others and their denial, made her feel purposeless and adrift in the sea of people so motivated and ambitious. What indeed did she have to contribute to their lives? Or her own for that matter...
Her need to feel needed was building since childhood but she never did surrender to its extremities. Alas philosophy and the company of her equally quirky believing friends had made it more poignant. But in a strange sense of paradoxical humour the more others needed her, the more she felt repulsed by humanity and her own pettiness. Thus, she was stuck in a marble maze unable to move forward or back… How did this state of affairs come into being, you ask? But it is why this book was written by her in the first place. I am merely relaying the information, chapter by chapter.
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