This Inexplicable Urban Sadness

It's 3:30 a.m. You are sitting in front of your laptop. Trying to complete some project that you cannot focus on. You are reminiscing about easier times.

You realise it's getting sad, so you decide to change the vibe. You go into the kitchen, play some old party songs and start making Maggi while doing a horrible yet honest dance. You have one of the best times you have had in a while.

But when the voices subside and the Maggi is over, you realise that the fan above you is way too loud. It is the only barrier between you and absolute silence. 

And not for the first time do you feel that hollowness. That something is missing. That all it will take is a weak gush of wind for everything to crumble.

The road outside is well lit. The streetlamps are colouring the ground yellow. Moonlight is filling up the corners that streetlamps cannot reach. This series of spotlights; so bright, yet so thirsty. Searching for someone. On an empty stage.

And it seems perfect. Every bit of it. It is exactly what an artist wants to recreate.

Not for you though. You want more. And you don't know how. Or why. Or if you deserve it. But there is something about this melancholy, that makes you tired of pretending that its aesthetics are all you care about.

It hits you when you most expect it. You feel it approaching a mile away, gradually, challenging you to stop it, mocking you in the language of silence. But you cannot. You cannot pretend it's not there. You already know it is. Oh! This inexplicable urban sadness.

- Sushant Kumar Das