Earlier, well like two seconds ago,the title for this post didn't have 'people' at its end. Why did I add it? Well to simply make it clear what I mostly mean when I refer to 2 AM. Though it's the quietest part of the night and the most peaceful too. Lights are mostly out. Birds don't chirp around like the way they do, say at 4 AM or something. Even the sky is completely black, not of the bluish tint it starts getting after 3:30. By the time I had finished writing this unfathomable time period in the above paragraph, yes those last two words being specific, I ran out of thoughts, I couldn't recall possible ways to describe, dignify and define the reason and severity of my obsession to these least or most noticed souls. So let's talk about those sapiens whom I classified, according to my own basis of characterization, into the 2 AM peeps. Well they are the writers,the poets,the readers, the lovers, the dreamers, the drunk drivers,the world lost in sleep, the bouncers, the watchmen, the call centre chaps, the docs., the jocks, the ''what'', and the "what not's". Last but not the least, it's the very people like you and me. Yes, you in particular. I can clearly see the real '2 AM self' of yours, no matter how much you try to hide it from the world, I can see it all. You are an open book to me. I am well capable of looking up the pages of your past, shuffle and read the last few seconds of your lifespan. I can even tear away the 66th or 174th chapter of it. I can do it all. Well no. I can't. I don't know any kind of sorcery. If I did I sure would have known before hand that my brothers will spoil the 'game of thrones' experience forever for me. Don't start judging, I haven't watched a single scene yet. So yes, as I was saying, I can't look up into your life and neither can you Google everything about me. Why? It is so because I simply don't care. It's not that I am a carefree soul wandering in the mysterious depth of the world., I am just a careless person. So I care less about other persons. No matter who they are. Always a little less. I met a poet once, instead of falling for my eyes or my wickedly cute smile, he fell for my name and eventually with my work on words. Perhaps he fell for the little mindless stupid things I talked about too. Things I often said and laughed at myself, totally ignoring his views on it, being biased in my very own ways. But I am not sure about it. I never asked him. He never told. He wrote in verses, like real verses, rhyming and beautiful to their core. Using the little knowledge I had at that time, I used to reply in verses too. Soon it became a ritual. He became a habit. But people change and so did I and thus changed the way of my talking and the time we spent together.He was my favorite 2 AM man, he still is, and maybe he is the most talented as well. I still very well recall myself rushing into his confined presence, feeling safer and sane enough to cope, pouring out each and every detail of the day I spent miles and miles away from him, and he doing the same. From what we ate to what we studied and whom we read to why we hurried. Everything. As in everything.The weather.The silence. The chaos. The government. The aches. The dreams. Literally everything. He is a man with a little logical brain as compared to the over proportionate slippery heart, with my name etched on one of its corner, he carries within his ribs. I guess you can find my initials below his left mitral valve. Why left? Oh it's so because I am left handed and thus I gladly connect with anything which is left. Oh no, of course with exception to the 'Left Front', I am a believer of the centralized way of governance after all. Then there are always the watchmen, as a child of 6, I was sure that the guy shouting 'keep being awake' in my Muhalla is busy in plotting a massive robbery, ready to mutilate us all, if ever the need arose. But as of now, I find it really difficult to doze off without listening to his monotonous whistles and rhythmic thumps. God! Time really changes you a lot. I have noticed that he comes around 11 and lazily takes a few round of the block. Then he leaves by 1 to return exactly at 2. Quite an amusing schedule he has. Well, I might inform the committee members about his usual absence. What if we really get robbed? That would be disastrous. They might take away the copy of my Harry Potter edition and ruin it. And of course, don't feel left out. Apart from these highly remarkable men with such an inspiring caliber, I am fond of each and every admin of the Facebook pages I had liked ages ago to fill my wall at the ungodly hours with such godly stuffs. Even if you people think that you are an useless and jobless fellow, bringing shame to the society and incapable of doing anything worthy, (perhaps they might be right about it too) each one of you is doing a great job at being an admin. Such skills. It's so appreciable. And of course get a real life, so that I can focus on my own. Now, it's time to wrap it up. That poet of mine, yes 'mine' must had have posted something. I have to check it. This virtual world I tell you. The era if social networking which though shortens the distance but widens the gap between two individuals. I have to hurry so that I can keep his words stored in my sub-consciousness, so when I am in my lows, his words will give me the strength to reach out and help my very own self. Being practical, I must prepare to sleep now. It's time I should crawl into my bed, cover my tiny frame with sheets, get comfortable, for the watchman will arrive any moment now. And since I am obsessed with his weird tunes, I need to listen them peacefully. Go find your obsessions till then.
