There is no way we can walk out of unscathed.
Whether you accept it or not, it has touched both our lives.
Forever.
I am still in love with you.
* * *
1
He looked through the window, with the air gusting into his face throwing his already messy hair into the face. Every time, the eye shuts from the world, the memories take over the moment and he is veiled from the present.
Is he in love with the pain or is he writhing in agony?
If it’s the latter, the wry smile on his face belies the entire emotional whirlpool within. But what else can anyone do, than smile when one remembers the antics of her, with whom one has spent the best memorable years of his life…
Hmm.. he thinks.
How should I describe her uniquely in a word?
Impish and child-like? Nah.. she was also strong and mature enough to shoulder him for all those crying moments, sobering him back to manliness.
Adamant and stubborn?
Nah.. she was quite patient with all his shortcomings and quirky mood swings.
Patient and calm?
Nah.. One should (rather shouldn’t) see that anger (one wish one shouldn’t have born to face it…)
Btw, how beautiful she looks when she is sobbing in anger… the beautiful big dove eyes would be loathing you, damning to eternal fires of hell, bulging with tears and the cheeks would be smeared in a special tinge of red. The nostrils would be flaring and she would be volatile and vulnerable at the same time. The shoulders heave in venting out the anger and frustration in huge gusts. And she would tug to something/someone like a baby.
Now that’s where he always gets killed. The way she tugs at something, like a baby, makes him totally defenseless.
There’s nothing he can do, than, love her more than ever.
Well, putting her in a word is like hearing the sea roar in a seashell. Now, don’t ask me what it means.
The train stopped at a station and he is woken back from the stupor to the stinking reality. Literally. The whole place was stinking with human degradation. He couldn’t see people anymore. All that was flowing around him was an ocean of flesh with random eyes and ears floating in it. Both the visual and audio cacophony was at crescendo.
He looked around to check if he can he could find any remote to mute or rather change the ambience around. But alas! this is reality. Probably this is what happens when one lives too much in fantasy. He fails to endure and accept the harsh in-your-face facts of reality. He is too lost to even understand this. By then, he could hear the distant rumble of the train, trying lug back to motion, with a stern hoot announcing its journey back into the next realm of existence. The rhythm of the train was soothing him. He is slowly drawn back into the soft cushioning of memories and moments.
He din’t know how long he was asleep. He isn’t aware if he is awake or if he is still prowling in the back alleys of his dream.
“Would you mind sharing this seat for a while..? “
He woke up and looked around with wet, weary, half-shut eyes.
He saw a girl with a hoodie sweatshirt standing before him keeping a heavy bag unknowingly on his leg and looking at him expectantly.
She was biting her lower lip, infact chewing on it.
He looked at her for a couple of moments and lowered himself back to the world of darkness underneath the blanket.
Tap. Tap. Something tapped on his shoulder. Or is it cold shoulder? (Just for the effect of the pun)
“Please understand…”
The bag on the leg was now churning on the leg.
“Just till that cranky old ass of the TT comes around. Then I will for sure run away.”
He sighed. Even lonliness is a previlage these days.
He woke up and in the process, wriggled the bag away from his leg, unknowingly a bit too harsh.
She read it.
He looked at her blankly.
The battered lower lip was quivering. She packed herself into the farthest corner of the seat, looking like a wounded deer with a mirthless “Thanks!”
He got up and went for the loo.
Whether you accept it or not, it has touched both our lives.
Forever.
I am still in love with you.
* * *
1
He looked through the window, with the air gusting into his face throwing his already messy hair into the face. Every time, the eye shuts from the world, the memories take over the moment and he is veiled from the present.
Is he in love with the pain or is he writhing in agony?
If it’s the latter, the wry smile on his face belies the entire emotional whirlpool within. But what else can anyone do, than smile when one remembers the antics of her, with whom one has spent the best memorable years of his life…
Hmm.. he thinks.
How should I describe her uniquely in a word?
Impish and child-like? Nah.. she was also strong and mature enough to shoulder him for all those crying moments, sobering him back to manliness.
Adamant and stubborn?
Nah.. she was quite patient with all his shortcomings and quirky mood swings.
Patient and calm?
Nah.. One should (rather shouldn’t) see that anger (one wish one shouldn’t have born to face it…)
Btw, how beautiful she looks when she is sobbing in anger… the beautiful big dove eyes would be loathing you, damning to eternal fires of hell, bulging with tears and the cheeks would be smeared in a special tinge of red. The nostrils would be flaring and she would be volatile and vulnerable at the same time. The shoulders heave in venting out the anger and frustration in huge gusts. And she would tug to something/someone like a baby.
Now that’s where he always gets killed. The way she tugs at something, like a baby, makes him totally defenseless.
There’s nothing he can do, than, love her more than ever.
Well, putting her in a word is like hearing the sea roar in a seashell. Now, don’t ask me what it means.
The train stopped at a station and he is woken back from the stupor to the stinking reality. Literally. The whole place was stinking with human degradation. He couldn’t see people anymore. All that was flowing around him was an ocean of flesh with random eyes and ears floating in it. Both the visual and audio cacophony was at crescendo.
He looked around to check if he can he could find any remote to mute or rather change the ambience around. But alas! this is reality. Probably this is what happens when one lives too much in fantasy. He fails to endure and accept the harsh in-your-face facts of reality. He is too lost to even understand this. By then, he could hear the distant rumble of the train, trying lug back to motion, with a stern hoot announcing its journey back into the next realm of existence. The rhythm of the train was soothing him. He is slowly drawn back into the soft cushioning of memories and moments.
He din’t know how long he was asleep. He isn’t aware if he is awake or if he is still prowling in the back alleys of his dream.
“Would you mind sharing this seat for a while..? “
He woke up and looked around with wet, weary, half-shut eyes.
He saw a girl with a hoodie sweatshirt standing before him keeping a heavy bag unknowingly on his leg and looking at him expectantly.
She was biting her lower lip, infact chewing on it.
He looked at her for a couple of moments and lowered himself back to the world of darkness underneath the blanket.
Tap. Tap. Something tapped on his shoulder. Or is it cold shoulder? (Just for the effect of the pun)
“Please understand…”
The bag on the leg was now churning on the leg.
“Just till that cranky old ass of the TT comes around. Then I will for sure run away.”
He sighed. Even lonliness is a previlage these days.
He woke up and in the process, wriggled the bag away from his leg, unknowingly a bit too harsh.
She read it.
He looked at her blankly.
The battered lower lip was quivering. She packed herself into the farthest corner of the seat, looking like a wounded deer with a mirthless “Thanks!”
He got up and went for the loo.
(contd.. )
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