Across the glass wall

It was a usual corporate conference room I was asked to wait in. Looking much familiar it had a white board scrapped with a lot of curly lines and figures, supposedly some important notes....hopefully understandable to those they were written for, my favorite markers, a big rectangular table surrounded by a dozen movable chairs, a phone that has hardly experienced ringing as half its life has passed dialing other phones over the walls and overseas. I widened my glance to a full square view and fitting to my mental frame was a glass wall.....a wall that I could see through. Though the view was mundane the different thing about that was the spot it was being looked from, this spot is the place I am standing at now...by the glass wall that echos a lot about the place it surrounds and can barely hear the world outside.

I walk up to the wall and look through it, branches and leaves of the mango tree were as closely reachable as the thickness of the glass wall, I attempted to touch them and no wonder the wall came on my way. Since my fingers were already on the wall, I tried to draw a figure and no wonder failed to justify my attempt. Then I thought of the school and children I were working last weeks with and imagined painting the transparent glass wall with all beautiful colors of the nature but my previous attempt disapproved my latter thought. By this time I started feeling anxious, I was thinking of the wall of my school and home where no attempt of writing, painting, scrapping was a fail ever. To my restlessly investigating mind the the wall resembled with a corporate job that lures someone with an spectacular heaven-like view of the horizon, overwhelming, stirring and motivating till core. The aspirant rushes to glass wall focusing at the take-off point, abandoning all his senses (but the vision of a glass wall) behind....only to bang with the wall, calling a crash and realizing what a glass wall could do to a naive aspiration?! 

It feels like a stolen brevity, a drafted calamity and a given upon serenity. The crashed soul feels heartless and attempts to make those sketches on the glass wall again, scratches the wall with a hope to see some movements in the falling flakes, bangs it hard to feel an impact....but all in vain, it’s a glass wall!. He looks at the branch of the mango tree and green carries hanging off it, recalls the childhood that had the pride of grabbing them down, no matter how and now all of a sudden it feels deeply sorry about standing so close to them yet unable to touch the fruits (did you say of your own hard work?) He feels suspended in the plasma that he aspired for, not long ago....Irony speaks for itself, as he can see things much clearer than ever but can’t move things across the walls.....what could we call it - hypnotism, or an alarming coma effect? 

I opt to think further, my thoughts take a sprint from doors to desks through walls to carpets. Everyone is working hard, overtime, dedicated, committed and demanded...with a distinct flair to win, and wins who? They say it’s the smart who wins. Smart is the one who takes the last seat in a square table conference room while the smarter have already seated. The closest to white board the smartest you are and not the one who stands leaning against the wall-the perfect glass wall, pondering over the scope of building a window on it. I make a silent wish "May the individuals be acknowledged over intellect, may the integrity be regarded over superficiality...every time there is an intellectual discussion in this conference room."

As my eyes moved and took a tour of the room, the moving chairs in a meeting room did not quite make a sense to me, I could not reason why should the chairs in a meeting room be rotating and moving in a world we are taught to take a stand when it comes to bipolar discussions. Or does it indicate to some sort of a higher realization that taking a stand is synonymous to taking a position and pretending to be team until the ‘ROI of that stand’ is met, triggering a smooth shift to the next standing investment? They call it standing-up to situation or transitioning-in to situation and give it a name to remember - Situational Intelligence, while I still wonder if stands are meant to change across tables, frames and walls....and where does ones integrity stand in the room, if you say yes.

Back to the glass wall separating the two worlds with great distinction, I am standing at the illusional meeting point of those worlds. I continue to look out and look far with least awareness of the world behind me. I am at a transcendental spot from where I  can clearly see both worlds and I quietly dismiss the one behind me for I am struck by the view I have been searching long for. I refuse stare in haze with an accepted disability to touch and feel the beauty of free thoughts, I deny to stay insulated and frozen behind glass walls, I am breaking the hypnotism of granted asks because I don't I never wanted be coffined. I want to make a way out while leaving a window for the rest, this walk out is probably what it takes to make the glass walls believe in the human resource working behind them....I am amazed intrinsically for the first time after stepping in the glass building which is named a corporate office. Standing by a glass wall meant so much to me all of a sudden as I got my vision and my sense of present clarified for the better.

I hear a knock on the door and without turning back I recognized the voice same as that of the person who left me in the room an hour back, I heard him welcoming me to follow him for a tour of the building, in other words for signing a contract of staying imprisoned in the glass walls, stationed and eying for the next available moving chair. 
I am reluctant to look back and accept his offer, as I am looking out....through the glass wall. For the first time in the day there is absolutely nothing interrupting my views and thoughts.....I have decided to take up a marathon to the horizon and explore what happens when there is no glass wall between the two worlds.
Good Bye Glass Wall.