A century had elapsed between her two sentences. Eons of pain and inducement of sorrow ; of demise of an edifice of emotions and of new acclimatization to absence. Even though it has been years now, like unheralded summer storms on the coast, I saw, a fleet of gloomy clouds pass over her. It all rushed to grab her. As if for a jiffy, she could again feel her nerves severed, throbbing and oozing scarlet in that hospital corridor amidst shrieks of agony. For that moment, it seemed so near that I could see her pupils dilated (or was it tears?) and she was almost craving for death. Time had flown past like wild air as she had striven to let that burning sensation sink deeper into her flesh and scar her for life. A moment. Only one of so many years. Like the bloody remnants of her last letter of love. One that never reached her lover. The last hope she held on to. The holy water on her lips before she drifted away.
When the passion in my veins
becomes the poison in my blood
and death comes closer by a step
I will not shrivel in sudden fear
or dissolve into a mist of a pitiable plight
For even when I die
My words will illuminate lives with it's
It was in that morning.
At the crack of dawn, she rose up from bed unable to bear the inconsequential lying anymore. Sleep had barren her like rain does to a land too devoted in it's sunny rendezvous. She climbed upto the rooftop. The sun was still an infantile globoid of vermillion gracing the dark sky as if it were the parting of an Indian woman's hair. Lights still glowed on aloof distant buildings visible despite the fog. She saw a pigeon bossing around another and ravens that had risen from their slumber to the joy of hovering amidst the clouds. But no sign of human could be traced. No cool winds swept past. No coos or barks or mews were heard save for an isolated crow's melancholic rendition.
As if the world had come to a standstill around her. She stood alone, basking in the glory of the dawn for sometime. And then like nothing at all it came rushing to settle on her like stubborn dust.
In that moment, that day, propped on that makeshift sofa she had designed for …
As I look through the black and white scriptures smudged with gibberish, I want to strongly recall when have I been sitting here before smothering dusky sunlight by the window on this bed.
I know some other time too I was looking at my fingernails appearing yellow in the twilight- pale and bland like my life! I know there was another time in the past I was here, immersed in these feelings realising I was trapped in between reality and desires. When was it that this fear had originated- the one I feel simmering like a dirty brown broth, slowly pulling each of my entrails into destruction. It was a time I know, but can't remember. I wonder if it was long long ago that you had left me and this time was only a recurrence of the inevitable- past mingled into present.I wonder; my heart races through the night. I wonder and I can't stop...