Conversation

It was a time warp: the same silent pauses and trickling thoughts and images. You could hear the laugh resounding through the hall with unfinished desks and chairs. And also feel the swaying dance on the collection of English songs. The whispers and the rush of blood to those cheekbones, ending in long conversations on the phone.

And us. At the very beginning.

“Sing a song.” “Now? You want to wake up the world to throw me out?”

“It was there…wasn’t it?” “Yeah…it was…”

The comfort of being silent and yet saying it all out, of reading the mind and the heart too, is difficult in today’s world of constant communication. You know, not the awkward silence, when there is nothing to say and you keep thinking what to say next, or hoping that the other person would pick some topic, or just leave. But the silence which you enjoy, where you are yourself without having to explain who you are and you wish that the words were lost forever and no one speaks again. That delectable silence was with us, around us, enveloping the real world.

“I still have that…” “What?”

“The last one you wrote…” “That was poison…throw that away…it can only hurt.”

“Yeah…it hurts the most…but I can’t let go of it…”

You would think why keep the last one, the one with the worst thoughts, the hatred, the anger, the hurt…when I threw the sweet ones away, the ones that would give the smiles, and lessen the agonising pain, the ones that would make me believe again…where it still was a fairy land.

But I can’t…it’s like the marks on the moon, or the thorns of the roses, which keeps reminding how it was not perfect, nevertheless beautiful in its way…it played its part in making me the way I am…and I surely don’t regret that.

“Wouldn’t you have written the same things?” “No. Never.”

“You can’t feel what I did.” “I can.”

Are we fighting? No we are not. There is no point in fighting now. There is no weight left. Time a healer? May be, maybe not. May be forgiving is the best way to alleviate the pain. When you can’t answer the recurring questions, and the questions hurt more than accepting things to be the way they are, like suspension of disbelief…I m going to literature again, using it to serve my purpose…

Or I am just being an escapist.

“It’s late…” “Hmmm…”

“Good night then…” “Ya...’gnite”

Trrrrrup Trrrrrup Trrrrrup <engage tone>

Thunderbolt

A thunderbolt flashed across the orange hued sky, breaking through the stillness of the air pregnant with unfallen rain drops.
The noise was sudden.

Alarming

Yet, something that was not unexpected.

Faster footsteps went on around me as i lay there numb and motionless. The same feet, interspersed with a few new ones passed by me every day. The same unnoticeable existence of mine continued. With no roots, no home, nowhere to get back to, i keep moving along with the transitioning and transforming times. Kicked, beaten, stamped over by many, i continue this sojourn through life.

Did you ask how old i am? Well, i don’t remember anymore. It seems ages ago when i think about the time i finally broke away and came out on my own.

Shush!
That’s the man i like. Walking with sure and measured steps, a smile on his lips, whistling away a tune of his own, unaware of his surroundings. There lies a dreamer in him. How do i know? Reality cannot bring that smile on any man’s face.

Ah! There goes that girl...
High heels, fast steps, a slight stern expression of concentration on her face almost as if she is afraid to let a smile of hers to be seen, or a tear breaking the dams of vulnerability flow out destroying the facade of strength and determination that she puts up for the rest of the world. I am not sure whether she ever dreamt. But now, she has the lost the ability to dream.

The rains are playing truant to the people walking on. It’s like the false contraction that women get before the real one unleashes itself on them. A drop would fall here and there but the down pour is yet to come. A feeling of uncertainty lingers in the air.

Does it bother me? Not really. I enjoy this feeling of an unplanned eventuality, something absolutely non-routine and unexpected. What’s the point of living if you know what’s going to happen next?

So when they say, “It’s now or never”, i wonder how they can be so sure. This entire feeling of doing it for the present, planning for the future confuses me. I feel a strange incomprehension when i see such strong believers of planned way of life. January is winters, autumn in October, June is summer while March is springtime and the rains are sometime in May, June, July. A February rain and everyone’s loses focus, control and cannot understand how such inevitability could occur.

Ya i know i have been rambling on. But i thought i might as well give my introduction by letting you know what excites me and what depresses me, and what experiences i might have before i start talking with you. It’s not good to talk with strangers, so i hope you know me a bit better now.

And i proceed.

18th May. Another year, yet the day remains fresh in my mind...

18th May it was.
Not any different from any other day really, especially for me. But, one should never presume.

I saw some new feet moving around. They were not the usual sure footed one, but they had this suppressed excitement in them. I guess somewhat like Columbus when he landed on the shores of America. He knew it was the new lands, but was not sure whether this was what he intended to see when he completed his exploration. But well, he had something to discover anyway.

Oh my goodness! The number of new feet just seems to be increasing. It’s almost like a deluge. Some just give me that look of curiosity, but they move on as the rest of them.

Who is this? She came and sat beside me merrily talking on the phone and laughing like the world is the most amazing place. She NOTICED me!! And gave a smile. Not pity, not hatred, just a smile which asked for nothing but gave a lot to me.

And then it was kind of a ritual for both of us. I expected her to come at least once a day when she would talk like the rambling river crossing the hills, making its own path as it went. Crossing a small stone or a large boulder, but moving on. And she would look at my permanent existence after a life of travelling across the globe. She was amazed at my stability and i hoped that she would never have to stop her course like i did.

The days were hot, but she would come over at night, sitting beside me and looking at the moon.

Slowly she came once in two days, which got reduced to less than once a week and then very rarely. And now when she came, she would fight over the phone and cry quietly. She never told me what was happening. And i never asked her.

Slowly the fights were taken over monotonous emotionless conversations. It was breaking my heart to see her change from the devilish laugh to this deadpan face and unhappy smiles.

And the thunderbolt came!

Cracking through the skies and hitting the tree that had stood for years believing it would stay forever. The roots were weak now and it fell, thrashing itself as well as the other smaller trees and flowers around it.

She was quiet for some days. But slowly the sun rose amongst the clouds of July through the mists of December and January and i could see the smile coming back.

It was not the same; it can never be the same. But well, isn’t change the only truth of life? She comes sometimes to sit beside me. I know she likes my sense of rootedness in transition. She will be leaving me soon, but we are living in the present without thinking too much about the future.’

Ouch! That hurt... They stamp on you and walk away, without a sorry or excuse me.

Oh, so you finally asked who i am?

I am the rolling stone.

Empty words
Fill the air, water and sky
Pages fly

Tears splash
Waterproof souls
Oasisless sands
Spreads its wings
Covers us all...

Thoughts fly
No resting sky...
Nests are made

And broken...

Pieces of it
Call out n cry
Scream silently
N then die...

Nothingness
And isolation stay...

Love is raped
Hate prevails...

Plastic smiles
And tears
Go on and on...