Chapter 11 - The Routine

Raul scrolled through the pages of Московские новости (Moskovskiye Novosti ),reading about the news and happenings in Moscow. It is only very recently he started using smart phones. He kept himself disconnected from the networked world as much as possible. He preferred old bulletin boards and online forums than using social media. He found these online forums more informative and rational than the rabid Social media. The bulletin boards these days are like an old lost forgotten civilization,  only a handful kept alive by the old timers with their personal servers at home. He visited these bulletin boards because, he could learn reliable information from them. With his alter ego, he is sensibly active on these forums.

Even though he is a hard core Information Technology professional, it is an irony that his personal life adapted very late to these technologies and was rustic. He bought his first iPhone only a couple of months back. Till then he used the basic mobile phone for everyday needs. That was more than enough for him. He took extreme care to limit himself from getting habituated with the new wired gadgets, that became an extension of a limb, making him dependent on a gadget than on his own brain to logically evolve in the fast paced world.

The world is becoming more contradictory. Today, we have people who fights for the rights of privacy, doing protests on the street against the governments surveillance programs and in contrast we have the same people who willfully use internet letting it intrude into their personal life, the glorified gadgets even entering their bedrooms, listening to their wisps and whimpers. At any given point of time, the servers of these multi national companies knows much about people than they themselves..

Raul scrolled through a few of his own websites, on the iPhone. He maintains and ritually updates them. These are his personal projects. These websites contained a repository of news and information he collected online, which he found interesting. Everyday, he used to spend close to an hour on these personal projects. Doing these projects helped him understand a lot of new things and constantly kept him in the process of learning new technology and methods. As he scrolled through the information with his one hand, lost in some random thought; his other hand caressed his 2 week old facial beard,

Since the past 2 days, this train cabin is his home. He felt an unease as every train journey brought with it the memories resembling a train wreck which nearly killed him- There was a time in his life when he ran his own business and train travel was a regular affair. He enjoyed those days, he was young and chasing his billion dollar dreams. The raucous, metallic shriek of the train always heralds the arrival of the decrepit thoughts he wanted to forget. The old familiar feeling hit him like a point-blank shot straight in his face every time during train journeys.
The past has a way of sneaking up on us. We'll hear broken echoes of it everywhere, like a bad replay. We'll get mad at everyone for reminding us about it, even if it's all in our head.
Raul Sighed;

To break away from the thought, Raul turned his attention, outside through the window focusing his eyes at the distant horizon.There, he saw the huge mountains, for him and it was no bigger than his solitude. A few  houses stood at the foot of those mountains, looked like paintings in the cold rendered realism. The train chugged along, rocking in its humdrum. Winter trees lined the next frame. Their denuded forms stood starkly against the white blanket of snow, almost like charcoal outlines sketched on a huge white canvass. The window frame changed again to the wasteland of white snow and there was nothing for his mind to hang on to.

He got up with a yawn, raised his hands and stretched himself. He yearned for a hot shower, a change of clothes and some decent lunch. He decided to do his one-punch-man workout to start his almost late day with. He closed the cabin door, secured it. The cabin was a constrained space. He stood near the door and assessed the space.
He removed his shirt and jeans, folded them and kept it on the berth. He didn't want the sweaty clothes to go into the backpack and ruin the other clothes inside. It is sensible to work out in his white jockey anyway. The cabin felt relatively warm compared to the weather outside.

Raul, in his late 30s was a little above the medium height, lean as a greyhound, flat-flanked, his skin- coffee dark, his eyes were deep-set, nose, straight and large, hairs straight, falling to the rights and a slightly round face with an imperial beard. He wore a titanium rimless spectacles with rectangular glasses.

Exercise and meditation was another ritual Raul practiced everyday. It kept him at a saner level.
He started going to the gym from his college days. He was not regular then. Ever since he joined Atlanta Inc. he made it a routine to hit the gym and sweat it out. It helped him keep focus. It made him feel alive. Joris, the graphic designer was his gym companion. It was a good help to have a gym companion as a support, while lifting weights.

Instead of a sport workout music, he listened to the blues. Playing now: "I'll play the blues for you" by Joe Bonamassa. Music filled the cabin  like the waves filling holes in beach sand; There are times it feels as if the music is teaching  the brain how to flow, how to be so peaceful. It's as if the slowly changing tone touches different parts, a sort of auditory massage for a restless mind. It is an invitation for slowness and to feel the presence of oneself, the ever patient version of us who waits to be spoken to, and is content to do so. There are times light, wind and nature do the same, yet differently, each in their own way. Music has its magic, to feel the soul within..

He began warming up for his exercise routines.
He concentrated on his breathes and tried to calm himself from his nagging companion, his thoughts
The space between the berths was narrow. He felt a little claustrophobic. Everyone fear being closed in, fear being trapped in darkness, fear the monsters who cage us with fear itself. Claustrophobia isn't rare, it's ubiquitous, it's just a matter of the degree you feel it. He immersed into the music and began his workout.

After an hour and half, Raul finished his work out with aerobic exercises.
His jockey stuck to the hair with the sweat. His back shone like a freshly washed car in the mid morning light, pouring in through the window. The sweat trickled down his back, free flowing like condensation on a window pane, it beaded on his forehead and dripped from his bearded chin, dripping onto the carpet as he sat to regain his breath.   He felt hungry. Before he headed out to the restaurant car on the train for lunch, he needed a shower.
The "Drive" by Joe Bonamassa played on his iPhone.
He stood up from the floor, with a jump.