Hold On

In our lives of everyday, it is hard. It is hard to stop for a moment, and find something that still amazes you. You are debating, from one phase of life to another, what have you left behind and what did you gain. What happened to musing under the stars, or dreaming about the palaces with a historical charm? Have you lost a bit of you, or have you just changed?

I saw this wooden door today. Nothing outside the everyday, but with a path lined by trees, and the trees lit by small white lights. I don’t know why, but it felt like a day dream or a little fairy tale.  It wasn’t dark yet, but the lights still shone on the way. It reminded me of the tales I was told as a little girl about pretty things and a valiant prince. Perhaps some days, all we need is a quieter place.

 

 

Take Me Back to the Start

When waters were clearer and would take time to turn muddy yet. When air was a little fresher, and you could see most stars at night; you’ve forgotten most constellations by now. It was a lot cooler, and the blanket of heat wouldn’t make its way yet. It was when spring didn’t seem to end and lovely winter lingered in obeisance, just a wish away. Now a century away it seems, love how much of it behind did we leave?

I think we forgot, we somewhere forgot to pack in our empty suitcases the times when raindrops felt perfect while walking back home, hand in hand. Or when the music played its tunes with pretty songs and we swayed along with uncertain feet but without any care for the beat; I think we did okay. Or when the sun shined a little too bright, but we somehow found shade beneath the trees jade and talked the afternoon away. Or when leaves fell with an old yellow and I was unusually mellow and you were, you were warm perhaps. Beside the sea I remember, I captured some fine sand and let it play with your hair and hands, and you, you were looking at our transient footsteps. Like that photograph you loved. I did too, at least some. And when the green grasses spread, light moths, wrinkled, circled as the water sprinkled, we didn’t want it to end; but it did end. Like all things worldly, good or bad.

Darling, take me back to our start.

In Pursuit of Happiness

I bought a one way ticket.
I bought a one way ticket of the train that never stopped and never returned, like the ghost ship cursed to sail the eternal blue of the skies and seas.
I sneaked out one midnight. Do not ask me, for I do not know why. I barely even waved goodbye.
Though at station, they asked, asked and asked. Why?

Between the shadowy mountains and green pastors, I thought of recent times. Somewhere, somehow, I lost something. Something almost tangible, like a locket, a ring or a halo; I realized.

Beside the meandering rivers full of life, I thought of my family. I thought of how little and little I saw them and how, little by little it stopped bothering me. I thought of how the voices over distant phones cracked and how concern was laid to dust by the lethargy of routines. And how routines dragged us into oblivion until one day, one morning I woke up to realize that I forget them on most passing nights. 

Trigger

Do you remember the last time when music became the concertmaster of the symphony of your emotions, like the moon on whose mandate waves rise or fall or just lay still? Or when the eyes of your lover looking deep into your own made electricity run through your veins as if it were the first time? Or when that string of words seemed to sting you every time you read it, like nails on the heart of strung passions that you’re to let go but cannot. Do that. Let go; muster the courage. Life needs more inspiration, more elation, more angst, more emotion. When did you last feel?

Nightmares, they linger.

Golden sun. A long road, stark against the sunlight, stretched into that golden sun. Clear, crystal clear was that road, the road that met the sun. I don’t remember if there were any trees or not, any green or not, or any other color for that matter. All I remember is everything being tinged by a different shade of golden – be the air, the land, or the sun; the happy, summer kind of golden. Everything except that road, that long grey road.

We walked on the side of that road, me and her. We both wore light sundresses, flower patterns I remember. Strikingly similar were they, mine and hers, both the dresses and the patterns. We both looked pretty alike, only she some bits taller. It felt warm, spring-like. Friends we were once, best friends. Did I tell you that? I trusted her. More than myself, more than I had ever trusted anyone. Because I grew up with her. What did they say, we had a lifetime of memories together.

I guess it was a simpler time, that day. Before all of that, any of this. We were still friends – the humble, true kind. She knew me inside out. And I thought I knew her too.

In Bits and Pieces, For Now.

Life monotonous. Same day, all days. Passing by. You try to stop. Do you really? No you don’t. You let it go, slipping through an open palm. Not a fist, though not because it might slip by faster. Because you couldn’t be bothered enough to close your fingers. You don’t care that much. Sitting there absent mindedly, watching. Watching the screen change colors, make noises. All sorts of colors, all sorts of noises. You can’t tell which is which, the color, the noise. Or what sense do they make, lone or together. Just some, supposedly. In a room full of people, waiting. Big ones running behind the small ones. Not you. Not waiting. Nothing to wait for. Everything moving on. You’re sitting beside railway tracks, purposelessly. Watching trains fled by. The engine, the tracks, the voices, the chatter. A busy world, busy people. Sitting there, an invisible, or probably not. An intentional invisible. People have better things to do, than you. You’re imponderable. A nondescript in their lives. Hurts? No. Your own life? Hazy. Tracks, voices, the trains and the sky changing color, for now. No vantage point. Happy, or at least content. For now. 

A Humorless Muse

Blues. Navy blue. Sky blue. An ocean and sand blue. Oranges. Milk-ish orange. Fiery orange. A more deep artistic orange. Probably streaked with a reminiscent orange, of countless evenings spent out in the playgrounds. It seemed a really long while back, so alien that it might as well have been another life.

Then the Violet. The powerful, relentless Violet. It was the Violet that pervaded the mega cities of the world. I never saw that myself, only in the sparkling photographs of that world beyond mine, far beyond mine. That Violet always seemed to have a million diamonds embedded in it, on earth and the sky. Unlike this one. This one did not care for the aesthetic, picturesque sense that the world clinged to. It was a raw swathe of darkness that commingled with the orange sky and the green land, as if conquering them both. A fearless, regal violet, that leapt out to rule the whole of horizon. Like the vicious smoke of a witch’s cauldron, it kept drowning the day with each passing second. 

On The Realm of Fantasy

A long road stretched into the horizon, running parallel to the ocean. Sun was about to set and the sky was lit up with an orange hue, one of the most beautiful times of the day. It appeared as if the road went on ceaselessly, until it commingled with the sky. Thus, a shimmering orange was sprinkled all around, and it grew darker shade by shade, as the sun dipped below. The ocean too, swayed in rhythmic waves. As beautiful as it was, a beauty it wasn’t, for that lay in the eyes of an observer.

She walked slowly along the road, all alone. Her head was bent down and her arms were wrapped tightly around her chest. Oblivious to her surroundings, she had a thousand thoughts running through her mind.  Each passing day was getting worse, and it appeared that even small joys in life had given up on her. She felt as if she had lost all perspective in her life, here she was in a city so big, miles away from home and no one to turn to. Her quaint home and enticing childhood flashed before her through a transient haze and she had the strength to walk no more. She sat down on the pavement, facing the boundless ocean.

Twilight by then had given way to a starry night, but it wasn’t dark. Diamond stars and a silver moon shimmered in the sky and city lights twinkled on the borderline, where the sky met the Earth. And they together, the stars, lights and the moon, laid a spangle across the blue ocean. Dark waves eddied around the small rocks, and the stars, lights and the moon did too, melting in together like liquid silver. Ethereal and enchanting, that night was anything but ordinary.

Her glazed eyes stared beyond, inept of noticing the sprawling magic. She sat there until she was cold, numb. Even the noise of the city traffic began to die down but she didn’t have the strength to get up. A long tear slowly scarred her face, and quietly fell into the ocean below. A few others followed its suit, until she looked down and saw what was happening. And it was incredible.

Her tears fell but not into the ocean, they lingered in the air just above it. A sparkling light blue they were. Astounded, she bent down to touch them but they drove in beyond the ocean’s surface.  Water, as if sensing them, molded itself around them till it was blue pearls afloat in a cup of liquid silver. Bewitched and bewildered, she put in her hand and water, separating, shaped around it. She twirled her fingers, and water swirled with them. Taken aback, she laughed happily. She couldn’t believe what was happening. She looked around and for the first time, she saw the surreal lights and the dreamy night that enveloped her. In the next insane moment, she kicked off her shoes and stood up. She breathed in the cool night air and dived off the edge, her arms wide open. Ocean, as if startled, jerked up to catch her, and it was uncanny! She lay, mid-air, a sparkling silver arresting her that swayed with her, like her. She stood up, and beneath her the ocean encased her every move. Euphoric, she let out a scream into the silent night and let go of even the last straw of reason. And then she flew, boundless!

She danced in the air and whirled with the wind. She ran, fell, laughed and ran again, towards the moon and the endless sky. She reveled in the enticing silver, and let herself be carried away by the magical waves, the enchanting night. A Nymph of the night, she was no more a slave to the world and its laws. She was back in a care-free childhood; a childhood full of magic, dreams and innocence, where everything was possible.

And there she hovered, traipsing the realm of fantasy.

The Evil Queen And Her Puppets

She sashayed across, her long ebony gown trailing her.  The enigma of the land, revered by its inhabitants, her aura carried a magic inexplicable. Every living being in the ambit bent down to its might, even the trees seemed to bow. The wind lingered in obeisance. Reveling in the power of her own power, she smiled a sinful smile in my direction; a smile dripping dark with triumph and conceit.

I failed to fathom that smile, those surroundings. I looked around at everything; everyone. This was the world I grew up in, the people I grew up with. I knew it all, and yet it was all unknown. Life revolved, and I stood there living my worst nightmare; I was a recluse in my own world. Everything that I had known, everything that I had ever believed in blazed in that moment. A bright fire danced around me, grimacing, laughing at me. Its effulgence engulfed my memories, my beliefs, and my reasons for happiness. I watched, helplessly, my whole life coming down.

They, who I believed to be mine, just stood there. The fire danced around them, it threatened to immolate them too, but not one lifted a finger. All had conceded to her, all. My eyes, dewy, lingered over them; a thousand questions lingering in them. But no one dared to look up, no one dared to meet my eyes. And each of those unmet glances shot through my heart. Each of those unanswered questions spread like venom through my veins, poisoning me from the inside. They left me a heart with an open wound.

She looked down at me, at my glinting fresh scars. A vain contentment suffused her, it was the fulfillment of a desire she long coveted. She drank to my failure, she drank to her victory. She drank to my helplessness, she drank to her power. She drank to those few moments that shattered my world; those few moments which belonged to her.

My whole life decimated to a masquerade, where she was the queen and they her puppets.

Frozen in Time

I woke up, delirious. A moment later, sharp pain shot through my veins. My neck stiff, almost broken was lying above a hard surface. Its ruthless rigidity made its way even through my numb being. The pain ran down through my spine to the whole of my body. It reverberated in my bones. I tried to open my eyes. The harsh sun rays, as if waiting, cut through the darkness. But that piercing light felt a thousand shades darker.

I squinted through the blinding light. By this time, I could feel the force of sun upon me and I could feel my being giving in. I was burnt, I was boiled. My olive skin felt scorched to the verge of ebony. My mind, immolated, wanted to scream. I wanted to scream. I wanted to scream all this pain out; I wanted to scream away that cascading light. But I couldn’t. I couldn’t open my mouth; I couldn’t make the words come out. Pain lingered inside, seeping its way through me. And the sun continued to melt me from the outside.

I could make out the white sky. White, and nothing else. A languid sun hung there, somewhere, sourcing that white. An unseemingly powerful, relentless, sadist white. And beneath that white, beneath me, a swathe of grey stretched into every direction. It spread across the horizon, until it commingled with the white. Then it was more of white and more of grey, more of relentlessness and more of rigidity, until it all decimated in the far beyond. All the colors devoured, and all the emotions drained out, only these shades of grey lingered.

And I lay there, frozen in time.