He has been looking outside the window for quite sometime. Yet he was not able to decipher the hyperbolic and surreptitious thoughts, which were hinting of a caffeine dependent night. A school of wisdom seems to shout and blind every other alternative.
Sometimes knowing is a curse. It’s better to rather live in ignorance than with the knowledge which is indicative of not incident or accident rather happenstance. Cursed are those who have noise inside their head. A constant persiflage, that grows inside you. A pregnant thought which seems impregnable. It’s not just sound which annoys, it is its decedent which under law of mutation completely tries to overpower you. And perhaps that is the time of shock! A reality check
Scions of light fervently crawl under the street of hollow untouchable light. He lights his cigarette. A stick with a crown jewel shining at the end waiting to be kissed by his master err slave. Rings of smoke arise in the sky with each breath making shapes of varied dance forms in their truest sense. It can be dance of joy, dance of love, dance of hatred or dance of insatiability.
You try to breathe slowly but your heart wants to defy your control. It becomes a race. Lungs pump and do their best but the blood in your body is yours, which like a true soldier and with highest degree of viscosity tries to hold them back.
He closes his eyes and thinks about the slow and steady rush of waves. How every single drop joins each other hands and in cadent style of action form waves which gives a sense of earth spin. Under the space of setbacks, lies and betrayal, his earth was spinning and his attitude were the waves splashing on the shore of his mind.
Today he has lost everything and there is nothing to back him up. So is this really over? Is this the time to quit? “A passionate guy”, He was fondly known by all. The revolving star in his eyes seems to be flickering in the extremities.
He reads the lines she wrote in his diary when they were parting hands, “If you are losing faith, have faith in my faith”
Below that a quote was scribbled in an unintelligent fashion from book of Shantaram “If fate doesn’t make you laugh, you don’t get the joke”. He turns another page with yet another puff.
He reads the lines written over there,” Will I be able to live my dream ever?? A dream kept on the hook because of rationalities. Risk averseness and clouded judgments. Unless you move out of shadows you can’t see the light though you ought to face scorching sun and sweat but at the end of day when sun subsides, you dream .You dream of the light and the whispers of morning sparrow”
A drop from the corner of eyes guess escaped at that moment. It’s been years of fighting. An elusive war, which has been raging for years.
Sometimes you just wish to go back to the starting point of life and say “Let me try again“. It’s not a question of what and who now. It has become a question of how long.
His chain of thoughts suddenly takes a back seat as the cindery stick reaches its end. The mystic fuming life kissed his master and gives a wakeup call.
* to be continued…*