It was a fairytale #5

A week went by and they didn’t talk. Then suddenly one day he messages and she replies, “Yeah, I won’t mind talking to you at all!” She kept speaking so much. She was trying to be calm although, but yet she just felt a lot more comfortable with him now. She asked him about his likes and dislikes and what not, just like a very nosy investigating officer. Oh! But he just didn’t mind. He said, “Please continue asking, my lady.” She loved him to be the epitome of kindness and gentleman likeness. She asked him about his biggest fear, he replied, “Losing myself”; she said, “Be ready to lose yourself then”. She told him she feared darkness. He said “darkness is beautiful my lady, hiding in it everything”. She then told how her relation with him was totally different. She didn’t know what she felt with him but all she wanted to do with him was to star gaze in the depths of sky. She wanted to sit beside him in silence and embrace the presence of moments. He asked her, “Should I honestly tell you what I’d like to do with you.” She happily replied, “Yes please.” He began, “I would hold you in my arms and hug you so tight, would whisper in your ears and kiss you all over, just so much that you won’t be able to breathe.” She was breathless then and then a beautiful stanza she composed in reply. The words mesmerized him. She again realized, it was the writing they were in love with. He had no words. He said that is what you do to me. I love you. She replied, “Ad infinitum”. She said “I’d love to be the umbrella to your rains.” They realized it was simply the moments they had just then. The future was unknown. She said “all I need is time as my only tool and resource to uncover your bare soul.” She told him how she also wished to be with him, getting lost in the woods he loved, lying under the sky she admired, gazing into the darkness they enjoyed and the experiencing the madness in silence surrounding them. She wanted him to be the light to her darkness, for her to be the lap to his head, his shoulder to be her pillow, and their eyes to be the sea in which they both can be lost for all times to come. She said that is who they were – sweet bonds over writing. So, he said “I’ll feel jealous if you ever wrote without me - not even alone.”

Would the story now remain incomplete forever? ( Only he can answer that)

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The Truth.

I am in no state to write fancy words. The first truth is that I do not have the vocabulary to sew words into some captivating, mind-charming strings. It's been 7 days since I returned back home under these dire circumstances. The situation still does not seem to improve even a bit. Days have become so contrasting, varying and fluctuating, that too on the stress scale. Happiness and smiles come rarely (fortunately they come), and last only momentarily. Maybe they come during some comedy scene in a movie or during a one-liner joke in a stand-up comedy, but not necessarily every time. Each passing day makes it more difficult to laugh, to stay positive. The early part of the week, we all were still trying to push ourselves hard to stay positive, even when papa stopped going to his office. I could never have imagined him not going to his business for these many days. Even when we had to go for vacations, be it for a day or two, it used to be so difficult for him to take an off. Now,

It was a fairytale #3

She knows their worlds are far apart. But she still has hopes not in the reality but only in the dimension beyond space and time. She dwells in consciousness and unconsciousness. She has two sides – the one is real and the other is extreme. Her extreme bonded with his extreme and they became one. They felt one. It was not a feeling, not a thought, not an expression but a realization. They were in now. She doesn’t expect her king to go beyond his walls because she can’t run away from hers. She is trapped yet free and so is he. She wants to keep him alive and with her just like this – just in her stories. After all, that is what she always was, is and will be – a story teller. She met her other half who completed her story. Insanity met the hungry fool. He said, “Maybe that is how stories are written”. Losing was easy with him – losing herself. How much she longed for such a loss in order to feel her real self. The king wished to whisper in her ears, “I love you.”

The storyteller #2

As she stopped.She opened her eyes. Wide open. But unable to adjust to the over luminous environment. Again it was the same question. Where was she? But this time, it wasn't nowhere, it was definitely somewhere. There was light all around. Actually energy. Energy that she could feel. It was beautiful. Whatever it was, she didn't exactly know. But it was dynamic. Lot of activity was going on. She looked down. She was amazed to see where was she standing. It was some track. A weird track. There were many similar ones. All around her. Lots and lots of paths. Still more confusion. Earlier there wasn't any and now there are too many. Where to go. Some things were moving across those paths. But what were they? Big giant structures were visible at some distance. Should she speak something? She chose to remain silent. She observed. It was better than blankness. But it wasn't something solid on which those tracks were laid out. Everything was floating in a fluid. Everything emb

Silent emotions

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