hundreds of equations
thousands of words
a million contradictions
fact and so-called fiction
a tiny idea
i fit, with
hundreds of equations
thousands of words
a million contradictions
fact and so-called fiction
a tiny idea
i fit, with
Once upon a time, not long ago, there was a boy. Let’s call him our hero.
Our hero was young and full of energy. He thought he could do anything he wanted. And why not? He had just started experiencing this thing we all call life.
He was completely mesmerized by the possibilities around him. But sooner or later, he knew he had to decide what he wanted to do with his life. And that was one thing our hero didn’t know at the time.
He had some ideas, but he wasn’t sure whether he wanted to pursue them for the rest of his life. So he did what most of his friends were doing, and ended up getting a college degree. And soon enough, our hero got a decent job.
He worked hard, very hard, and kept getting promoted every year or so. Then one day, he got married and had a son, who actually is going to be our new hero.
So our new hero was born, and boy he grew up fast. He was always the centre of attraction wherever he went. Our new hero, just like his father, was exuberant.
He was young and full of energy. He thought he could do anything he wanted.
And why not? He had just started experiencing this thing we all call life.
He was completely mesmerized by the possibilities around him. But he did something his dad, our old hero, never did much.
Every living moment.
He dreamed of becoming a famous sportsperson. He dreamed of becoming a great writer. He dreamed of performing in front of a huge audience. He dreamed of owning a business empire. He dreamed of being his best at anything he did.
And he didn’t just dream. He kept learning and pursuing those “hobbies” (as our old hero called them) from time to time. But sooner or later, he knew he had to decide what he wanted to do with his life.
Now our new hero knew what he wanted to be, but he didn’t know what to do to be who he wanted to be. I guess there weren’t many dreamers around him. So he went with the safe and sensible decision and did what every single one of his friends was doing.
He got a college degree.
And guess what, he also ended up with a pretty decent job. Just like his dad.
He worked hard, very hard, and got a higher salary every year.
And somewhere along the way, he kept burying all those dreams he had when he was young.
And after 50 years of doing this, he died.
Didn’t like the ending?
I know, the ending is not right. It just doesn’t feel good.
But here’s the best part.
It’s our story, let’s just change the ending.
Because only we can.
those dreams, they were different,
making it hard to fall,
into the deep pit of dark,
inside the dim hall,
the yellow lamely fighting the black,
but firmly standing its minor ground,
i couldn’t help but notice,
the beauty of the moment around,
as the knob turned around,
the warmth of the night felt alive,
the shift of the focus towards the sky,
told me i wasn’t the only dreaming tonight,
shining, they were,
i stayed really quiet,
in my world of believe and make,
one by one they flew,
they flew far away out of my jar,
i felt like leaving the ground,
and going back to the stars.
that innocent but confused face,
with those dreamy pair of eyes,
the way they stared with such grace,
of all the things i felt like in haze,
no, they couldn’t have lied.
the deep blue was in a hurry,
but how could i let it run?
her eyes had their own vocabulary,
such magic, it made mine blurry,
what a beautiful language to learn.
for she had eyes and chose me,
can you blame those wonders for that?
even now, when she looks back and sees,
the stars feel so ready to flee,
just don’t blame her, will you, for that.
There was a moment.
There’s always a beautiful moment when this happens. When you look into my eyes after a long time and your smile says it all. When I see you, the world. It stops and all that exists for me, is you and my eyes staring at you. There’s nothing else. No noise, no other people, no thoughts or worries, no yesterday, no tomorrow. The world just stops and it’s a beautiful place and there’s only you. Just you. And my eyes staring at you. When you’re gone, the world starts again and I don’t like it as much as before. I can live in it. I just walk around in it, and wait to see you again and wait for it to stop again. I love it when it stops. It’s the best thing I’ve ever known or ever felt.
When we have those most unusual conversations in front of everyone where nobody dares to join us, and it’s simple why they don’t. They can never be on the same level as Us together.
You know that. I’m well aware of that.
Every time I have few, but important questions to ask to you, but I never do. Because I know, you won’t answer. You won’t tell the truth. You won’t be honest. Every time this happens, you just leave me with more doubts, and amazing memories, that you know, are as special to you too. You just never express. And by the end of this moment, I start to lose myself, once again, in you.
Every single time.
I can’t help it. But I pretend like nothing happened. But I think you catch that quite easily. Still you don’t say anything. And that’s how we leave. And I end up in my room turning from one side to another on my bed at 4 in the morning trying to figure out where was I wrong? What went wrong when everything was so fucking perfect? I do all kinds of things I promised myself to never do just to take my mind off you. But at the end of the day, all that’s left is my regrets, and the unanswered questions that may always be left unanswered. Forever. The sun seems to never come up and present feels like a distant memory.
But it all changes in that moment. That one beautiful moment. When you look into my eyes and your smile says it all. When it doesn’t matter if there’s rain or shine. And in that moment, there’s no sunset. There’s just now.
at this moment
as i sit here
with my eyes
full of stars
the sore muscles
for the usual
reminding me of
the vastly overlooked
of my heart
i looked at those
i may have
“I’m losing it.”
I sounded like a person who has lost his voice. Words barely came out of my mouth. But those were 3 honest words I told him.
He was the only one in the entire world who was going to hear that from me. That kind of shit doesn’t usually come out of me. But that day was a different day.
“With that much information at my disposal, you’re losing me too.”
He had this creativity to somehow crack me up even in the darkest of times. That’s why we have been always together. I still remember the day we were going through the same phase.
“We’re so fucking fucked.”
“Yes, we are so fucking fucked. But we’ve been fucked before. In the ass. Legs been behind our rears. Not a drop of lube. But we’ve always come out smiling. You know why? Because it’s just the kind of happy-go-lucky sluts we are, my man.”
Somehow, we always go through the same phase. Always.
“Let’s get out of here first. I need some air to stay alive.”
I put on my shorts that were hiding in my closet for a long time. It felt liberating. There was this urge to burst everything out with such a force that everyone gets a piece of it. We started walking along the humid wave of heat. Those shorts were barely helpful. It wasn’t that liberating after all.
“I’m done with this shit.” I started my little sad story which wasn’t usual for the Disney land. “I’m exhausted. Every single day of the week. Sometimes I feel like I’m going to get sucked so hard into this thing that one day, it will shit me out of its asshole, and it’ll be too late to realize.”
He knew that wasn’t all. He knew me too well.
“And I’ve been getting into a lot of random stuff that I never wanted to. I know I don’t want to but I can’t help it. It just sucks me in.”
I noticed the sky changing its color as we walked across the lake. Everything seemed to be getting darker. I wasn’t the only one feeling that way.
“Nature’s with me tonight.” I thought.
“Yeah. Everything is as depressing as you tonight. Let’s see the root of the trouble. Who do you think it is?”
I felt him making sense there. I decided to be honest.
“I think it’s me who’s causing all this mess. I think I should focus on doing what I really want to do.”
“What you really want to do seems out of your reach, doesn’t it?”
He was right. I saw the red and green lights flickering at me through a shop sign. Everything felt far away.
“I guess that’s the big picture right there. What I want is not in my hands. I can take care of most of my desire list, but I can never go the whole way by myself. Because the person that I want to have everything to do with, wants nothing to do with me.”
He knew all about that. He’s been the witness since that very first moment and was still on the same never ending journey with me.
“Tell me one thing. Promise you’ll be honest.”
I stared him right into his eyes. “Have I ever lied to you?”
He looked away from me. The eye contact was too brutal and truthful for him. And his words had the same effect on me.
“The woman you love is out there and you know you can’t have her. How do you even get up in the morning?”
I wasn’t expecting this kind of cruelty on me. He made me go deep into my thoughts. I kept wondering. What was it? Was it the only thing to care about? My fingers worked their way up the free enterprise mechanism. Some digits flashed in front of my eyes, but they were too busy dreaming to notice them.
“Well being busy is always helpful and so is the art. Everything I write is either for her or about her. So I’m with her, even when I’m not.”
He didn’t say anything for sometime. Maybe he found what he was looking for. We kept walking across the picturesque landscape which now had a pinch of sadness to it. Dark and sad. Everything seemed to be thrust upon me.
“You can do it.”
I knew I could. But I just let it go. It wasn’t my decision. Something else was controlling my threads. Finally, it felt liberating. The mind was free. Everything was out where it belonged. No more bullshit.
“So what are you going to do about it?”
And I thought he was done asking questions.
“I don’t know. I’m not going to church and pray for sure.”
“Anyone can be cynical. Dare to be an optimist.” He was making sense with those words.
“Maybe I’ll just do what I always do.”
“And what is that?”
“I’m a writer. I believe in sitting down, closing my eyes, and hoping for the best.”
“Well that sounds like a pretty good definition of prayer to me.” Somebody was impressed.
“Do you think that’ll work?” I was still unsure.
“Just ask yourself when was the last time you did that and what happened. I know it didn’t work most of the times, but that one time was worth it.”
He was right. He’s usually right.
“You’re welcome.” He winked at me and disappeared into the now-not-so-dark landscape of the mother nature.
Sometimes, you are the only person who can give you the best advice.
I was back into a single piece again.
The rear left light was blinking.
The red light took more than the usual to switch places with green. These things know how to test the patience out of the best. He had enough of it. The patience. But sometimes, even the best of bests have to bow down in front of the nature’s highness. Patience is a funny thing. You can never have enough of it. There will be times when you think you have conquered every bit of it, but then, there’s a knock on your door and you ask patiently, “Who’s there?”, and a similar soothing voice reaches your testy ears. “Life”.
The beats on the steering wheel were good enough to qualify him as an all-right drummer in some garage band. The fingers were quite responsive to the music playing in the car, given the fact that his mind wasn’t present there at all. His eyes fixed at the traffic lights were focused on some other images in front of him, hiding away the reality. Those sightings were exclusive to him, and the others around him were completely unaware of that fact. Until a loud honking got him back to his senses.
Suddenly all the visuals were gone and the reality was back. Forget the honking and there was no sign of those images existing. Except if you observe closely. There was all but one evidence. A tiny immaculate teardrop, slowly rolling down and making its way to his worn-out shirt he had put on in hurry.
Skipping the next 2 red lights after looking carelessly on either side didn’t feel dangerous to his guts as it would have usually. That day, it was the need. While his feet made the brake and gas pedal talk, his eyes were constantly switching from the street to his watch at a regular interval. Each second passing away quickly felt like a lost moment. He was losing himself. Though he his one hand was busy directing his path, the other was helping him to lessen the pain. Most of it was now red, like the rest of his left leg.
His mind kept him up to date with the remaining distance to the not-so-cherished but still a popular destination among the people. Humans sometimes exceed the limit of multitasking.
Exhaustive, yet amazing.
I will never know if he ever made it to the hospital or not. If he’s still alive is another question. There were roughly a few hundred people around him. No one noticed anything. Including me. Some thought he was crazy. Probably day-dreaming. This outside viewpoint was as accurate as you can get.
Maybe this all actually happened.
How would I know? I was sipping my usual in the cafe when I saw him waiting impatiently at the traffic lights.
His rear left light was blinking.
It was still blinking.