The Correspondence!



Dear lovely,

I am still waiting to be called by your silk lips on this tender night. My shrunken heart has been dilated with your inviolable ramblings. My sun, you’ve become the happiness I yearned for, which, until I met you was an occasional acquaintance.

Your whirlwind courtship seized my glitter and had me debilitating. But still the memories linger in uncanny situations forcing me to drown in the tearful adieu that we never got a chance to bid. My moon, You were the only respite I got from a ludicrous world filled with clowns dressed in pyjamas.

I attained a poise which appeared to be an obsolete idea while you lurked under my shadows covering your wounds. My twilight, we never quite shared our elemental regrets or aesthetic insights; we loved and only loved each other like newborn puppies and until the relationship ripened. 

Your departure injected something alien and silent in me; something unknown entered with stoic silence around, a mute stillness engulfed by a bright and fertile light. My love, I’m agitated at the mere idea of a foreign body entering me but hopefully I’ll stand by like I’ve been lately.

Gliding through this life doesn’t offer any kind of respite from the regrets or melancholy. I am as fettered to myself as I am before I even knew you. My baby, I am changed and similar and lost all at once. Your happiness will remain my most jubilant need and you’ve been my muse like you’ve promised to be.

Till my end.

Boxed Soul


How could you possibly change as a person once you’re attached to something that questions your consciousness by packing the world into a strange quirk or a moving symphony. Your world shrinks: the world will be reflected in the confines of that particular act or craft. It becomes an obsession; echoes of even the highly established dictums of the world start rendering their essence into your tiny realm. Your essential reality switches places with your obsessive reality making it hard for you to function in an alternative but fundamental reality.

The usual social interactions become compulsive rather than enthusiastic; the long quintessential discourses which fed your appetite now turned redundant. The basic armour to function in the society eventually got damaged, your strengths became your vulnerabilities. The humane element in you has sarcastically turned into a mocking identity, the rudeness has crossed the boundaries and made you indifferent.

This traversal cannot be identified and nitpicked, it has fleetingly moved your soul into a Schrödinger’s box. The box maintains the thrills by hiding whether your soul is dead or alive; you live with the hope that your soul returns and you can live your life haphazardly again. But is it worth the effort or wait? Will the return bring back happiness? Or will it showcase their differences and turn your indecisiveness to choose the right path into acceptance of whatever may come.

What would you choose? Order or chaos? Obsession or indifference? Social anxiety or blatant execution? Cessation or measured indulgence?

Binge Living!


I’m spiraling back into the numbness my heart acquainted during my transformation to adolescence. I’m not happy that the rain brought petrichor into my life, rather I’m concerned about the aftermath: it taking away my short-lived happiness and throwing me back into my routine destructive reasoning for everything.

When does one accept the jaded nature of our inherent consciousness? When will I possibly make peace with this fact, lying bare backed in front of me? Often I despise my longing for a joyful and heartfelt happiness; within a day or two a constant treble of delirium interrupts that gush. A continuance is what I’m lacking says my mind, but my heart warns that I’m lacking vitality.

I feel smothered, unable to drain my indecisiveness in the world that turned blind eye to suffering. A part of me is busy attending the inevitable daily rituals and the other half is religiously weeping at the weakness I have turned into. I was hoping all this would one day metastasize me and blow into varying proportions of disgust picturing the frailties of men and gods if there be.

Hoping this would break the parochial walls of the empire built upon feeble statistics and unreasonable circumventions of the system that is so corrupt at its crux, I digress. Because my end would essentially mean the end of all my consciousness, including the world as is. It is time I should accept that after all I’m a human who fears death, loathes suffering, oblivious of my past experiences and dreaded of my yet unknown future.

The brother I never had.



It was a quiet unrewarding morning like it has been lately, it was raining inconclusively for 15 days. The rain carried humidity as its accomplice and the combo triggered a series of health issues in numerous toddlers in our colony. It became almost impossible for me to stop counting the number of persons who weren’t sneezing or having a dead look on their face. I used to jot down the number on my make-shift chalk board haphazardly everyday, any person in his right mind can observe and deduce the reason for decrease in the numbers as the season passed. I thought only I could make a difference by letting them know the invariability in life even after the modern medicine’s advent.

There was a parable circulating among the kids of the colony that one’s who didn’t catch cold or any of its grimy cousins will be killed by the end of the season. It was uncommon and unexpected of people to not catch this previously oblivious rule, as an outstanding kid in the family and the eldest among the 3 of us, I knew that this was just another “Pink eyes” slugfest. There used to be a rumour among kids that if you don’t have pink eyes, you would eventually be killed by the one’s having them and they’ll replace you as a kid of your parents. Owing to this rumour, kids started coating their eyes with their mothers’ lipsticks during nights and took a beating to sleep the whole night. I got to know about this prejudice from my brother while he was crying that night trying to mute his pain but unable to. He is a lively kid who used to be illustriously participative in the unreasonable and often unsafe acts of vandalism in the neighbourhood, he used to bring home his stories of bravery adamantly. His was a role of a quality checking staff of the neighbourhood; any insensate rumour should pass his test of self-check before being heard by other fellas.

The rains started declining ultimately and he was dejected that he was unhurt by this demon, he just wanted to live for until he becomes an adult, so he did the only thing that will accomplish his yearning: drown in tap water for two hours inexorably. He let water pass through his tiny ears, nose and all over his face, I noticed his act only when he was literally bulged like a sponge napkin. The usual rantings of my mom reverberated even more making our neighbours uncomfortable, but their mutual understanding rule works always; scream all you can but pass in front of their door as if nothing ever happened, they don’t talk about it and you don’t talk about it. By the time the street lights were ignited, he caught cold and mild temperature; as the outside temperatures dipped, his body warmth surged. Mom gave him few generic medicines of which she has a bag of, and let him sleep beside her for the night. I took the night off from my usual stargazing as clouds haven’t really dozed off.

A loud thump on the floors and a knocking on the door has woken me up, it was not alarming but it aroused concern in me. I drifted from my bed to the bathroom to wish good morning to my best friend ‘Vishnu’ who lives in the closet of the bathroom and engages me in never ending conversations so that I won’t feel bored every time I go there. While I was discussing the fate of my two-month old toothbrush with Vish, I heard people crying and running around my house. Now, I thought, is the time to interrupt and bring order to this mismanaged house. But the authoritative being in me died the moment I entered the hall, my brother was lying bare; his chest pale in colour, eyes turning limpid, hands unresponsive, neck hanging and heart inanimate. Poof, he was gone. An incredulous second while passing has galvanised a fear of loss in me. An air of confusion prevailed about his death until a doctor established the same.

People started gathering around the house and relatives inside the house. Everyone was busy with their own responsibilities of organising the cremation and taking care of mother and sister. They might’ve thought I will man myself up and will live through it without shedding a tear, but they were faulted in their thinking. What can I do without my brother, who will play hide and seek with me, who will accompany me in teasing my sister, can there be a possible replacement to his unwarranted attention towards his nonchalant brother ? Possibly no.

The prolonged epiphany


  

He has an endearing smile that could defeat the survival-questioning polemical thoughts. They frequently disturbed his cadence with enthrallment. Even a ray of sunshine evoked a sense of fascination in him. He used to wait for the sunset every day, just so that he could appreciate the silver linings of the clouds during twilight. Losing him was one of the hardest things that has ever happened to me. I didn’t lose him in a split-second, his death was an eye-opener to all those who don’t respect death. He died every day for a year until he was redeemed, his downfall was a hard recipe to devour. He was a piece of artwork, even after accepting his periodic decadence, he remained a personification of forbearance and strength until his end.

He turned pale in the initial month and recovered the very next month, displaying his frugal sense of accepting defeat. This cycle repeated for a few more months until finally turning into a monster eating away his courage in style. His downfall was clearly visible to me, I saw him enjoying ice cream like a kid by the beginning of the year, and by the end of the year he started visiting hamlets in the lofty peaks. I never questioned his solitude seeking transformation, but I didn’t want to miss his childlike aesthetic appreciating faculties. He, in a way brought happiness to everyone around him, watching people cry was one of his greatest peeves. He transgressed almost every social norm to make people feel content for themselves. Few people used to label him as ‘privacy-stealer’ and ‘attention-seeker’, but he never cared about these things. He always wanted to see people smile, of which he was devoid of eventually.

During the metamorphosis, he left behind a wealth of memories which were waiting to be consumed. I always hoped he would at least be palliated by the occasional sweep-ins of the yesteryear memories, but he had always succeeded in withdrawing from the present as well as past simultaneously. Daydreaming was eternally his go-to place in this game of hide and seek. He used to live in a secluded room all day during those days. My attempts of ringing bells for his ephemeral vantage-point-views went in vain all the time. None the less I was happy that I was the only sane voice in his realm of indignation.

Eventually his run-of-the-mill house turned into a gloomy cheerless hole. The visitors have disappeared unnoticeably, the helpers stopped coming owing to their boss’s unruly arrogant behavior. They could only detest his new found concern for trivial matters of the house, but I could acknowledge his disgust against his own life. He was dying relentlessly of self loathing and misconception (really?) of the world.

I finally lost him for once and for all on a dreary morning with tulips smelling gun powder and trash inquiring it’s longevity. I hope he will reincarnate as hope and courage in my head like he usually does.

Hope we get to know each other better : To the core memory.


  

She extended her hand with a glittering smile on her face. I have stretched my fingers to let off the sand, but she grabbed my hand and held it tight. Maybe she was assuring me that we’re going to battle the odds together.

“I pictured this moment many times” I interrupted.

“What?”

“I pictured us sitting in a beach holding each other.”

She came closer and whispered something.

“You’re not audible.”

She reached my ear and whispered again.

I was confused, I wasn’t sure of what I heard.

“I think I misheard you.” I said

“You did not mishear me.”

“Kiss me dumbo!” she yelled, with a charming little spark of love.

I let my palms cuddle her jawline. Softly I kissed her forehead, then gradually passed onto her plain provoking temples. By the time I reached her pernicious collarbone, she developed these tiny fields of standstill hair follicles to showcase her inner anxiety towards a belligerent enemy – our passionate wanting for each other – before it turns ephemeral. Meanwhile she softly let her lips overlap mine with authority, I just let her be the boss, after all I’ve been waiting for this ever since I searched ‘How to kiss’ on Google.

It was so surreal that I forgot to gift her something I made for her birthday.

We looked at each other while our hearts were conversing at sonic speeds untangling our prejudices. Meanwhile a wave of air hit the coast and mildly disturbed our equilibrium; I noticed the transition of my life into a fairy tale just in a moment’s note. She held my hand so tightly that a pinch of sand would find it hard to escape the knot. We were adoring the kiss so much that we didn’t notice our palms sweating. She turned into a teary eyed puppy yearning for a cuddle from his master.

“I’ve never felt like this before. I’m yearning to be with you. But I wish we could rewind this scene and change the day.”

“Why?” She questioned.

“Because it is embarrassing to kiss someone you love for the first time without brushing your teeth.”

“Yew. What?” She changed her expression as if she ate a cockroach.

“No, it’s a joke. I don’t want to see tears in your eyes.”

She smiled assuringly. A trivial twinkle on her eye made my life lovelier, I thought.

“This is going to the core memory” I announced.

“Lovely, I wish I could fill more of your core memories” she said, waving like ‘Joy’ of Inside Out.

“Why do you smile always? Especially when someone is smiling, even if you don’t know them.”

“I love watching people smile, it brings out their raw, unadulterated appreciation for their otherwise morbid moment. It personally helps you feel better.” she said.

“I’m happy you could find inspiration in people around you without even talking. You’re gifted.”

“I love you. And I think you’ve forgotten to respond” She reminded.

“I love you. I love you like a butterfly loves the nectar. You’re both my survival and my fulfillment.”

“I couldn’t find any words to show how happy I felt. I was blinded by the uncontrollable urge to make myself visible to you all these days. But I inherently knew that you too had feelings for me and you proved me right. Unknowingly I’ve fallen for you in the most unexpected moments. I’ve fallen for you when you were sleeping on the writing desk. Right now I’m on the edge of a cliff waiting to fall if you just happen to reshuffle your hair. I don’t know if this is love, but yearning to be with you has a stimulating impact on my frail life. My life halts for a split second the moment you wink at me, which you do religiously. You’re a luxury that turned into a necessity for me. I’ve seen you grow into gigantic proportions inside me, consuming my feelings as a staple. And finally here I am, sharing your breath and trying to digest this resplendently impossible moment.”

I felt a sense of belonging, that equilibrium you attain when you’re with someone you love. Her presence illuminated the sedentary life I was leading. A spectrum of colours dived together into my gloomy routine evening, turning it into a canvas.

Hope we get to know each other better : At The Beach.


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Pic Credit: New York Times

I reached the beach an hour early. Few thoughts have been hindering my routine today. Reading newspaper is something that I don’t miss, unusually today, I’ve landed directly on to the weather forecast page to see if the odds favour me. Luckily they do, it is a sunny day with clear sky, it read, clearing my pessimism fogged mind. Then I’ve drifted to the horoscope column where it read “Your planetary energy tends to promote feelings of detachment. You need to overcome it by talking. It will be worth it.” We’re meeting for the first time out of college and this guy asks me to overcome it by talking. I don’t get it, after all what’s going to work apart from talking.

In a parallel world where scepticism ruled the day, I was bound to adhere to the rule of law. “She might be revisiting her decision to meet me, she might as well have forgotten about our meeting” I thought, a million times. I allowed these pessimistic thoughts to pester my appetite too.

I couldn’t stop the soliloquy that’s hurting my head since I woke up. I reminisced all the moments that have had me either disappointed or heartbroken since my childhood. I can distinctly remember an incident when I cried for 2 days straight. My mom promised that she’d take me to the magic show one weekend. Deeply indulged in her house chores without compromising on our upbringing, she forgot about the show. And that’s when I cried a river and proved her that a human can cry for 2 days on a stretch without a recognisable interruption.

I sat by the beach waiting for her. There were few kids who were building houses with sand, one sculpture was especially noticeable. This kid built a set of row houses in sand, when asked about the reason, he said that he built the extra ones for his children and his grandchildren. One might view it is as a foresight of the kid, but not me, I thought he was conspired by the social anxieties of the adults to have a secure future, not just for them, but their whole family line. This way of thinking may never give him closure on the intrinsic satisfaction. My thoughts might not represent best of intentions, but I feel we’re moulding them into greedy machines who never acknowledge their pulsating surroundings but always aspires for a vibrant future. In his case, he is living this moment by spending his rare beach time on fortifying his future rather than enjoying the reflection of sun on people’s faces or comically on their butts. I think the best thing that can ever happen to anyone is their childhood.

Meanwhile I was staring aimlessly at the horizon, in search of a tangible border to demarcate the vast stretches of water and sky. But I couldn’t find any, the border is ever expanding, blurry and reminding of the screwed intention of humans to define everything.

A stroke of sea breeze woke me from my half-sleep and I found her sitting beside me with eyes projecting immense life. She seamlessly sat beside me without making any noise. I smiled and wished her a happy birthday.

“So how long has it been?” I volunteered.

“Ten minutes and you were busy appreciating the horizon” she said smiling.

“Sorry I didn’t notice your presence”.

All these days I was dying to get her attention and when the moment came, I couldn’t notice her. So, this is how people define self-absorption. After all, defining is not as bad as I thought.

“Yes, I’m un-noticeable. I don’t have a peculiar aura. I’m a bystander in a metro.”

“No, I didn’t mean it that way. I was busy with my thoughts. You have one of the most lively faces I’ve ever come across and you’re the polar opposite of what a bystander means to me.”

I loved the way her skin reflected the sun rays, carelessly yet gracefully.

“Thanks for caring. I wanted to ask you something regarding us.”

That’s it. All of a sudden I was stammering and my lips quivered with anxiety.

“I’m not going to beat around the bush and delay ‘us’. I don’t want to fade out of your life as if we never knew each other, I want us to happen, I want us to be a reality. I’m not ashamed to tell you how much I want to be with you. I never showed it owing to the reservations we both had in our lives. I’m holding an enormous amount of love for you, of which I don’t want to lose even an ounce of it in the name of confusion or indecision. In this moment, this very second, I want to kiss you. This immensity of love is making me go crazy, I’ve turned into a huge fragile cloud which is on the verge of bursting. If tomorrow is my last on this Earth, I want to spend today with you. I want to be yours tonight. That radiance you dissipate when you talk, I want to own it. I want to learn how to appreciate simple pleasures from you. I want to laugh with you, share with you, cry with you, make love to you and live with you. Knowing almost nothing about you doesn’t make me reanalyse my decision. In fact, it is driving me to look forward for a relationship where I can learn about you every other day of our courtship. How exciting would that be? Growing together without growing apart as Theodore Twombly said. But the idea of growing apart haunts me. Can we really rely on our infatuated minds to call the shots for arguably the most important decision of our lives? Even if we allow them to make the decision, do you think we’ll last?”

I was astonished. I couldn’t think of anyone who could put their thoughts so subtly. A sense of envy prevailed in me. I wondered if I’m lucky enough to have someone this articulate in my life. I couldn’t find any befitting words left to show my euphoria.

I took a handful of coarse beach sand and handed her half of it.

“How long do you think it will take these grains to escape your hand ?” I asked.

“An eternity or maybe a second”

“It depends on me, if I won’t leave, they’ll stay with me forever” she cast her dice.

“Same is the case with the sand in my hand too. It’ll be with me until I let it loose” I said looking deep down into her eyes.

“Yes, obviously” she concurred.

“Then the answer for your question is right in front of you” I said.