Murmuration

Just like two adjacent pieces of photographs on a reel, the sky merged into the sea. The water was so still then, that it almost reflected the space above without a hesitation of nuisance. I observed how the sun slowly lost his shape – from a vicious round, to a semi-circle and then a thick, evaporating, straight line. The motion-less water afar, reproduced the same, creating a hallucination of noon; the sun being full. It’s so strange that we, as a race, evolved so fast –travelled galaxies, cured diseases, fought wars and sought peace, but we are still amazed by the same things. The first men drew sunsets in caves, we draw in iPads, nothing else changed.

When the rest of the travellers were taking a stroll on the sand, I dug myself a big, chair-like hole and sunk within. The sand rubbed against my bare skin, created a sensation of the earth caressing my body. Being merged in the sand, I almost fell asleep like a child on his mother’s lap, when I heard her – “Do you mind if I sit beside you?”

“Suit yourself.” I replied. Truth be told, I would rather be left alone but she took a seat before even me answering her question.

“Do you see those birds?” She pointed out to a massive flock, who were patrolling near the horizon.
I looked up and observed them fly. “Of course. It looks like they are going back home.” I responded. With an undisturbed gaze, she replied – “Look at the front. The tiny bird that is guiding them.” I looked again. There was, indeed, a tiny bird guiding the gang. It almost looked like they followed him blindly. If it takes a right, the whole flock takes the turn. If it goes left, they follow. And doing so, they create these astoundingly beautiful patterns in the sky, that you can be lost watching them for hours.

“Murmuration.” She said again. “That’s what they call it. What a weirdly mechanical name for something so lively.” Chuckling.  “They do it to keep each other safe. They also transfer information that they have gathered thought he day like this. It helps them to be better every day, in a way. ” She went on explaining. I just smiled back.

I saw her back in the bus. While everyone else was emerged in their own business, she was one of those few who was constantly chirping – much like those birds – sometime with the bus conductor, sometime with the co-passengers, and from what it looked like –  sometime with her own self. I on the other hand, am not a fan of conversing with people around me. I like my peace, and so I often turn to any weapon which keeps people away from me. Sometime one weapon is not enough, so I’m loaded with multiple of them – books, headphones, earpods – you name it, I have it. I don’t have any problem with people talking to me, it’s just that when I try to indulge in a conversation, it takes a turn that I don’t want it to.  Hence, the gears.

“I heard there used to be a dock nearby, even a few years ago. But You know how moody the nature is. There was a cyclone and it took it all away – washed the dock to the shore. The ships have changed their course now. The few families, who had houses nearby, also packed and moved near the city, where there is more work. This whole place is deserted now. It’ll take much longer to repair the bus than they said.” She again chuckled. If the whole story, what she just told, had any action following up, it should not be a chuckle.
She was calm as the sea. I would worry, normally. But watching her, I couldn’t. So, I decided to give in and take a part in the conversation –

“So, have you been to this part of the world before?” I asked.
“I have crossed here, but never stopped. What a beautiful place, isn’t it?” she smiled.
The sun had started to evaporate in the horizon. Darkness soon took over the sky, like ink spilled into a paper. With time, the sky was getting darker and darker, but face lit up as she continued her story of voyages.

I looked into the sky and observed a meteor fly through. The raging tail left a splash of light as it arrowed through the darkness. The whole sky, and the water beneath it, bloomed into light for fraction of second. I saw her clenching her fists, closing her eyes, making a wish. I too, wished for something.

Soon enough, the bus was fixed and we all arrived our destination. She went her own way.  I have crossed the road multiple times since, but I have never seen the beach or her again. But every time i look up in the sky and see a flock of birds circling in patterns, it reminds me of the places i'm yet to explore and the people, i'm yet to meet. 

This is a write up to spread the world for #TheBlindList and #SayYesToTheWorld. Participate now - here. 

Picture Source - here.

Tamed

I sat there with my broken phone on the table. Where there was a beautiful five-inch fancy display and a beautiful pair of lips carving a smile as the wallpaper, only the marble of the glass and teeth of smile remained.

I wondered if it still worked, whether I could check the status of the flight.

The flight! “What’s the time?” I tried to shout, but only a whisper broke.

“Oh, you’re up.” The nurse said passing a glass of water. 

I gulped it in one go and asked “Yeah. Can you help me with the time?” I asked again, this time in a more stable voice. 

“It’s 8.” She replied looking at her wristwatch.

She must’ve landed a few minutes ago. I thought. This was my chance to see her. Now that I’m here and she’s landed I won’t be able to meet her. The strange things universe do to fuck you up, I smiled.

What if I left home late today? What if that car suddenly didn’t brake? What if I did not pass out at that exact moment? What if I did not meet with the accident today and what if she was coming any other day? 

But all of those things did not happen. What happened was me breaking my phone and passing out on the highway while going to the airport to meet her! Now she’d never know that I came. She’d never think that I still cared. She’d never be aware that this was the day that I was waiting for years. 

[1]

“I cannot play with you.” the fox said. “I am not tamed”

“What I must do to tame you?”

“You must be very patient,” replied the fox. “First you will sit down at a little distance from me – like that – in the grass. I shall look at you out of the corner of my eye, and you will say nothing. Words are the source of misunderstandings. But you will sit closer to me, every day…”

It was that time of the year when rain and winter found solace in each other. The raindrops pierced through the fierce winter as if somebody was spray painting the whole city. The temperature rose below to a record level. Families took out their room heaters which were catching dust in some hidden corners of their houses, and bachelors turned to Old Monk as a replacement for their post-meal beers. 

When all the town was busy finding the cold, who knew that I’d find my remedy just across the corridor!

I met her in the elevator one day. I was coming late from office. The rains made it even harder to glide through traffic on my bike. It was near midnight when I got to the under-developed society of ours. From the exposed bricks and the machines, I managed to slide my bike to the parking. All the hassling and rustling of traffic made me sweat. I removed my helmet and unzipped my jacket to let the cold breeze kiss my soaked shirt. I got the lift and that was the first time I saw her. 

She was standing there holding the door for me. She must’ve seen me parking my bike. I saw her from the corner of my eyes. She was not the prettiest woman I’ve ever seen. But that spark that she had in her was inevitable. Dressed in a black jacket and jeans, hair cut short and the office tag that hung around her neck made it evident that she too was a victim of the corporate rally. 

“Thank you.” I passed a smile. Still gazing at her eyes which were tired but glistening. She reminded me of those days when it was summer around these part of the world. I know that is a terrible way to define someone’s beauty. But she reminded me of the dessert in this defining cold and rain.

“Which floor?” she asked with a fancy smile. 

“5th” I replied. 

She pressed the button 5 on the keyboard of the lift. The doors of the lift closed. I wondered will she not press a button for her own floor?”

“You’re also going to the 5th one?” I asked. The lift already started moving at that time. 

“Yes,” She said. “I just moved to 504 yesterday.”  

“Great I’m at 502. Just across the corridor.” I replied, holding onto that smile. 

She tried to say something, but before that happened, we were interrupted by a bashing sound. And the lift stopped in between 2nd and 3rd floor. The lights turned off just then. 

“Shit!” I exclaimed. 

She took out the phone from her pocket and turned on the flashlight. The dark elevator turned white in a go. 

“What now?” She asked. 

“I think it’s the thunderstorm outside. The fuse must be out. And in this hour I don’t think anyone would be able to help!” I said. Frustration clearly visible on my face.

“Is there network on your phone?” She asked me to check.

“Nope. Yours?” I asked. 

“No.” she shook her head.

She was as shaken as me, but all the worries were inside, her face was still lit up.

Maybe it’s the flashlight or the rain outside, or that little mole on her left cheek, but I noticed how beautiful she actually was. 

“Don’t we have any option but to wait?” she asked. 

“I don’t think so.” I said shaking my shoulders.

“So wait it is.” She said and sat on the floor in a whoosh. I followed the lead. 

What followed is a not so eventful night at the elevator. But in the morning when we finally got rescued from the elevator, we were two persons in awe of each other. We talked about films, music, art, celebrities, the galaxy, football, relationships, love, destiny, the moon in the cloudy night and thousands of other things for the whole night. But when we got out, no single drop of exhortation was on our faces. We were fresh as the morning breeze that followed the rainy cold night. Before yesterday we were two people in the sea of people.  To her, I was nothing more than a little boy who is just like a hundred thousand other little boys. And to me, she was nothing more than a fox like a hundred thousand other foxes. But after that night she was the fox that I wanted to tame and I was the boy that she looked from the corner of her eyes.

We watched the blossom of spring, we felt the scorch of the summer, the humidity of rain, we felt the breeze of autumn and before we knew the next winter was here.

We were so entangled in each other that it made it impossible to separate us from each other. We spoke less, listened more. 

It was one of those nights when the rain and the winter find solace in each other. Just like the night we met. The one difference was this time I had someone to find solace in too. And instead of the lift, we were stuck in other’s body. 

“Winter should officially be awarded as the season of the lovers,” I said, carving words on her bare back while she tried to guess them. 

“What?” she giggled. 

“Yes. Have you ever thought how romantic it is?

It’s so cold outside that people don’t want to leave their houses. Think of them who sit in their homes and doesn’t have anyone to snuggle with. How painful it must be to be alone in the winter? Don’t think that just like their breath vapor that floats into the air and dissolves into nothing, their life is incomplete. It’s meant to be spent with somebody close, somebody dear. 

I feel lucky to have you now. To be with you. To hear the songs that you like, to make you read the books I adore. To spent days dreaming and night capturing your essence.” I said still carving.

“You and your idiotic romanticism…” she replied chuckling. But before I could realize I felt a drop of warm tear on my chest that she rested her head on. Then I felt another one, and soon a rain of tears wet my chest. I did not say anything for a while.

She could understand the letters I was carving on her back. I did not have to say them, she understood. 

After a while, she said, “I’m in love with you too.” I wiped away her tears and kissed her on the forehead.

That night also we talked about a lot of things – stories, career, distance, closeness and I promised her that I’ll send a song to her every day after she falls asleep so she could start day with something I adored and so would she so that I could start my day with something that she is fond of. 

That night we fell asleep after a while or so I thought. I woke up early in the morning to find her gazing me at my sleep. Her eyes, still teary, her hair, still short, and her face, still unbelievably beautiful. 

My parting eyes made her face light up with a smile so bright that for a moment I thought the sun rose from the wrong direction for a day.

“Good morning!” said the sunshine. 

“Good morning!” I said. 

[2]

“Of course I’ll hurt you. Of course, you’ll hurt me. Of course, we will hurt each other. But this is the very condition of existence. To become spring means accepting the risk of winter. To become presence means accepting the risk of absence.”

After that day, it’s been two years since I’ve seen her. I found out through her flatmate that she went away for an onsite project from the company to abroad that same evening. I tried to catch a hold of her for days. I tried calling, she didn’t pick up. I tried contacting on social media, she didn’t respond. I tried talking to her friends, but all that I could find that she was doing okay. 

At first, the absence of her pierced through a shovel into my heart. It became impossible to live inside the house, the thought of her made my every living breath heavier. It became even harder going out. But the toughest time came with the next winter. It did not rain that winter, but it was cloudy outside. It was colder than any winters I’ve ever seen. For days the town did not see the face of the sun. For months I did not see the face of the sun. 

I just wished I could take back the words. Words are the source of misunderstandings. She warned me before. But I did not listen. I was so in love with the idea of taming the fox that I forgot the most important thing of all. To tame is to set free. To put boundaries of words only meant scaring the Fox away. Thousand times over I thought if only I could take back what was done that night. If only we could just go back to her looking at me from the corner of her eyes and me sitting closer. 

But as the way the universe works, it finds a way to fuck you up. So here went mine. I could not take back the words, but I could have done, I did. 

I sent her a song, each day, for two whole years. 

I waited for the Fox to come back to the stone where we both sat holding each other.

[3]

“And now here is my secret, a very simple secret: It is only with the heart that one can see rightly; what is essential is invisible to the eye.”

And this was the day I was waiting for years, she was finally coming back. Her flight would’ve landed here at 7.30 and I was ready to the airport by 5, even if it only takes 30 minutes to reach there.

I left home by 6, and in the way I met with the accident that left me unconscious only to find me here in the hospital bed when it’s already 8. 

I lost my chance, I thought. If I got to meet her, I would let her understand the impact of the last two winters. I would let her understand that taming her was an excuse that I played to sit beside her for the rest of my life. I won’t ruin it by strangling the boundary of words with me this time. I would just watch her watching me with the corner of her eyes and light up when I struggle to part mine.

[4]

“You become responsible forever, for what you have tamed.”

My tangled thoughts untangled in a go when I got knocked on the door of my hospital room.

I saw what resembled the smile on my broken phone, only brighter, standing on that door.  

And in a single moment, it all made sense. The mysterious way the universe works.  The untaming and the taming. The tears and the joy.

The blossom of the spring, the scorch of the summer, humidity of rain, the breeze of autumn and the chill of winter. 

For after years, I had seen my sun rising. 

The fox was back on the dessert with the prince.

Note: This is a small effort to tribute the master of the craft Antoine de Saint-Exupéry, and his masterpiece “The little prince”. To look at the book in a different perspective.

Braveheart

Sometimes I wish
I would have known,
Of that strange town
That you once called home
And ran away from.

Sometimes I wish
I would have felt
That loveless regret
And that nasty heartache
That keeps you wide awake.

Oh and sometimes my mind wishes
Like those black and white fishes,
We should’ve snuggled and we should’ve cried.

But it was too late when we finally realized
That all our smiles and our sufferings,
All our temples and our coffins
Nothing was ever safe!
And all we needed was someone
Pretending to be brave.

Full moon in a cloudy night.

There's something so serene, so beautiful about a full moon in a cloudy night that it makes it nearly impossible to describe it in words. You just have to feel it to know it. The clouds – some white, some pitch black, skiing thorough a rather clear sky. And the moon, playing hide and seek with them – sometimes it decides to unveil itself, shining through the darker clouds, overthrowing their dominance, sometimes it hides behind the white ones making them glow like neon lampposts in a distant road, and sometimes it even tries to pretend to be crescent, only to surprise afterwards.

“Don’t you think we live in a world which was predetermined for us? Whatever happens takes us towards where we’re supposed to end up. And when it does, everything starts making sense. That job I quit, that city I visited, that risk I never took. Everything somehow falls beautifully together like missing pieces from a puzzle.” She said, still half dozed from the alcohol and the day long journey combined.

“But are you sure it was destiny? Was it mere luck that those decisions somehow aligned? Or is it us who chose our fate? Think about it, what if that day you never had said yes for the trip? Your life would have been the same. We would have never met, but your life would have continued. You would still be happy, maybe or maybe not. But my point is, it was your decision altogether.

I think life is a game of probability. You get to roll the dice, but the sides will always be six. You would have limited options to choose from. But you must choose. And whatever we choose, we own it, our achievements and mistakes, our smiles and heartaches.” I said, looking towards the sky.

The clouds now thickened. Covering every bit of the gorgeous glow. No matter how hard the moon tried, it couldn’t sneak a peek. Only thing that still reminded us of how beautiful it was under those thunderous clouds, was the moon dust, the afterglow that some clouds carried from the time when the moon still could breathe. And as it is said, you can only know someone’s worth when they’re not with you anymore. Same goes for the moon too, the only difference is, the clouds around the moon will soon go by and it’ll come back, unlike people.

 “Perhaps! But I still think that whatever is meant to be, will happen. It might take a shorter or longer route, based on what we choose, as you said, but it’ll happen for sure.

Tell me don’t you believe in intuitions? The feeling you get in your guts that you should do a thing or refrain from it? Can that moment of self-believe be derived with logic?  You just know it, you know.

I think that’s how the universe converse with us. It tells us what to do to shorten the distance between you and your fate. We all are a part of a bigger picture and we have our own roles play.” She said.

 “I agree with you to some extent. The only thing that I would add to that, is at the end, even the universe asks for our approval. It gives us that gut feeling, that intuitions, but leaves the choice to us. Would we take its advice, or we decide otherwise is our own call.” I replied

“Tell me something, what’s your take on relationships, do you believe in clichés? Do you think that someday someone will come and share your pain and your happiness?” She asked out of the blue. I stared right at her face, she was looking at the sky. I could see the stardust settling down on her face, finding peace in it, and her face glowed like a thousand fireflies captivated in a jar. The night might not have had a moon just then, but the chair beside me surely did.

“Oh I believe in clichés. Clichés are clichés for a reason. The truth within is what makes them clichés. But my clichés are different. I believe in suffering. I believe everyone has to suffer in their own way. It’s a matter of fact of time that you’ll get hurt in any relationship, but until you don’t, there’s nothing more fun than them.

See, I’m a wanderer hitchhiking from one place to another. That is how my life has been. Staying too long in one place scares me to the core. I wonder if one day I feel like to stop running. Will I be able to?  Some questions never found their answers.” I said I sighed and looked up.

The clouds that were fighting for their turn to hide the mood and feel proud of their darkness were long gone. The moon was still there, though it’s light dimmed to minimum. The sky came to rescue and was trying hard to light itself. The night was almost over, sun would soon overshine her and even though the moon will be there, no one will notice her for the next twelve hours.

I could see the horizon turning red, followed by an orange and yellow aura. The dull dark sky suddenly turned colorful like a painter had spilled all his colors over it. Like everyone else, it was time for the night to leave.

“I have a cliché for you.” She said. “What’s darkness? The absence of light. What’s evil? Absence of goodness. And what’s pain? Absence of happiness.

Don’t you think that if you believe in suffering and pain you, you’re also believing in happiness and ecstasy?  Think about it, you can only know what’s suffering if you have seen better days. Look, I’m not asking you to start believing in something all of a sudden. I’m asking you not to stop. And that being said, I want you to answer your question. You don’t have to do that right here, right now. You don’t have to share your answer to anyone. But you owe that to yourself, don’t you?” She asked.

The tiredness was evident on her face, still she somehow managed to look as beautiful as ever. I could see the orangish yellow aura slowly turning white and the redness around the horizon taking an oval shape. Somewhere near some birds chirped. The night full of thunders and clouds now slowly was turning into a dawn of songs and morning breeze. I saw her fighting hard with her hairs, which were determined to wash away stardust from her face and she struggled to save them. She caught me staring – “What?” she asked.

I pointed towards the horizon and replied – “Look, It’s a new day!’”

Source of the picture : here.

Butterfly

You’ve crawled, all your life,
Asking questions, you don’t want an answer to.
You’ve followed, all the rules,
Making promises, and following through.
Oh caterpillar, climbing up the ladder
Of a world you don’t believe in.
Stop for a while, take out your time
Feel the silk hugging you in.

You’ve watched, up from a branch
Pretty souls, come and go,
You’ve drenched, fists clenched
Witty travelers, to and fro.
Oh cocoon, wake up soon,
For you have to change the sky.
Shake off the dust, burn out the rust
Because it’s your time to fly.

You’ve seen, tears of the queen,
From the top-right window on the castle.
You’ve kissed, the morning mist
And rained tears into the riffle.
Oh butterfly, wake up and try
For you only get one day to live.
Take off the wig, learn to forgive,
Because you’ve given all you had to give.