The brisk wind is swashing away the tiny particles from your memories. I often pick up my magnifying glass to watch these small particles move. Sometimes they collide with each other, exchanging information; other times, they maintain their safe distance, watching others’ movements. I often feel that human interactions are the same. We sometimes collide with other people, exchange feelings, comprehend them, and enjoy those rendezvous. And when the forces that were gluing us become weaker, we move our separate ways. Amongst this all, there are watchers, who witness other people’s lives, from a faraway place, never being part of it.
These particles are the watchers of our life, who remain interested in us, but never get the chance or the courage to have a conversation. All their life, they remain an arbitrary object in the life of the admired. The sun rises and sets; the withering leaves take the place of hot summer days, and decades pass, but they remain there, as a constant. Their interest in you might not necessarily be romantic; you just have piqued their curiosity. Now they move across social platforms to catch glimpses of your fleeting life.
If you are a celebrity, you might call them a fan or a follower, and if its BTS, you say army. But if you look deeply through your lense, you will realize we all have a bunch of watchers in our life. If you are Indian, you always have neighbors, some long lost distant relatives, who tend to follow you across social media, and know more about your life then your parents. And if you are not social media friendly, they might keep an eye through human chains. They are unknown faces, who coincidentally came across you, and now hold a little interest in the ongoings of your life. They might be your anonymous readers, your art collectors, a view on your not so famous youtube vlog.
As the day turns grey, you walk into a coffee shop for your fill, and you stumble into a stranger who looks familiar yet unfamiliar. Maybe they are your watcher, looking furtively at you, as your admirer. Or perhaps they are still contemplating your importance in their life. Sometimes the watcher particle might lose interest in watching you. The reason could vary from too many to watch in their list to gluing with some new particle.
They silently enter and leave your periphery, leaving absolutely no footprints.
Then someday, some random persons tell you about the existence of these particles. You are initially surprised, then slowly absorb the laid information. Now a new desire has spurt in your heart to know this stranger, who has left your orbit. Stealthily, you walk into deep dark woods, cleaning up the hung webs, and plunge into the ecstasy of walking into a fresh stream.
Steadily, you leave your elliptical orbit to ramble into another’s. The watched becomes the watcher. And so they say, the life moves in circles, it seems they might be right, after all. The number of particles in the universe remains constant; they might just be changing positions.