All I want is a room somewhere... Far away from... all the blare... Unlike Eliza Doolittle, I don't mind the cold night air if it would shield me from all the noise. No, it's not noise pollution I am talking about; that is a different story altogether. I just want to get away from all the noise on Pakistan, Terrorism, September 11, Bush, Musharraf, Vajpayee, the whole lot! I am sick, terribly sick, of being bombarded with news, analyses, points and counterpoints, opinions and all sorts of clutter on all the attacks going on everywhere -- terrorist et al! I have nightmares not of being shot down by a terrorist, but of drowning in a maelstrom of words about them. My greatest desire is to scream my head out so they will all just shut up. But that's plain wishful thinking. My scream will probably miss their ears by a mile thanks to this already existing chaos. I happened once to mention my 'screaming' wish to one of my friends. He was shocked -- at least, he pretended to be. His admonition: "How can you turn your back on what is happening in this world? All your so-called noise is not baseless. You cannot run away from truth and facts." My reply: "Yeah, right!" His rebuke: "Don't be cynical. You are being a coward, an ostrich!" Time to kick myself. Why couldn't I just keep my mouth shut? Okay, he may be right. But I was sick all the same. That was a fact too. Nevertheless, I solemnly pledged that next time I would keep my whims to myself. I have since tried all kinds of diversions. I buried myself in light fiction, Wodehouse et al, in those musical worlds where everything is always perfect and laughable, including the evil twists. I completely avoided the vicinity of idiot boxes, steered clear of magazines, newspapers, news portals and even forwarded emails. This self-imposed quarantine lasted about a week. Two reasons for the breakdown: People: However hard you try, you just can't avoid bumping into them. They are all over the place with mouths open, ready to open fire with the latest updates on everything under the sun. Old habits die hard: I couldn't help giving the newspapers a peek even if it was only to check the sports news. But en route to the sports section, the eye glances over the rest of the headlines and no points for guessing what they are all about. So I abandoned my futile exercise. I decided I would calmly take whatever comes my way minus the hyper-reactions -- after all, the world is in a flux! I took to reading obscure bits of news in detail. Pieces like 'Bridegroom-to-be eats his engagement ring' (this happened in Norway, by the way) took precedence over 'Infiltration bid foiled, 8 militants killed', 'India, Pakistan dangerously close to the brink', 'Blair urges caution in Phase-II of War on Terror' and 'Satyam leads tech stock recovery'. A month later, I'm not as calm as I would have liked to be. I'm still screaming inside while the whole world directs its blare at me. I'm considering going into quarantine again -- only this time I'll make sure I'm away from humanity. My demands are not great. All I want is a room far away in the woods (that is, if woods can be found). I too am fighting a War Against Terror, albeit a different kind. Nisha Giri's hunt for a place far from the madding ground is on, full swing. Illustration: Dominic Xavier Tell us what you think of this diary Be part of an exciting venture! Write a Diary!
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