Have you ever lost your heart in the hems of broken cursives?
It’s a mystic realm that draws you in… like a black hole is known to snatch the world away.

To the people of stones and metal, it may seem like forbidden magic when a poet holds your hand and walks you through the dark.

They chant to the silent tunes of truths and wonders; and scream at the sight of lies and vows.

Vows… let’s talk about them! They belong to the grey world of lack and lustre. You may have vowed your world to the orphan, or… You may have betrothed your misery to power.

Either way… it’s a town of beauty! The finesse lures you in a blink… and you fall!

After all, who would not fall for ‘slavery’ over ‘self’? Humans do!

So, when a poet spins metaphors around a dead log of wood, and her avowal calls it ‘Ivory’… you buy it!
Why? Because we buy into words.

Our eyes have grown too tired, now that we have chased the light for ages… ‘Lack’ sounds like peace!

Love stories! They are like broken glass beads thrown ashore to the dead sea! You, as a lone bystander, may happen to step upon the sharp ones every other fortnight! Then, you may bleed a little and your lips may sin to mumble a soft curse at their beauty. When that happens… don’t fret away from taking another step!

In every love story, there comes a time when jasmines begin to smell like lavenders. That’s when you must pick your tears up and run!

Why? 

Because nothing heals better than the sweet nectar which oozes out of those flowers… and healing, my friend, is a scary business!

Here’s a funny thing about scars! They walk the face of this planet with a tiny bag of peace hanging down their shoulders. When you happen to bump into one, the thorns may sting you for a second… but, sooner than you realise, you will find yourself swooning to the tunes of their tranquillising sorcery.

Having said that, love is a nightmare to the broken and boozed. It is the kind of torment which makes wolves howl on dark and lonely nights.

The worst part?

Once you trip and fall on the side of this road, you won’t wake up before dawn. Your eyes will be left yearning for the dark.

Befoolery, in our world, is a celebrated virtue… and love has always been a fool’s master trick!

So, for once, let yourself fall for the trickery and gasp at the magic. For once, make your jasmines smell like lavenders! Healing must be a scary business, but since when have the broken started shying away from fear, huh?

These days, I find myself swooning over lazy afternoon naps. I may have found a strange solace in the cruel lucidity of my dreams. Well, it’s strange how sleep is my refuge in ‘our’ memories, away from the worn relics.

So, this afternoon, after I was done meandering in my beautiful dreams, I woke up…

I woke up to the taste of honey, dancing at the tip of my tongue.

An hour later, I stood there, with hot pancakes piled over my plate and the memoirs of my peaceful sleep hanging down my lashes. Warm soul hugging-fragrance of pancakes bathed in the gleaming yellows of honey… and that is how I paint winter on a white plate of bone china.

The glass jar sat in a lonely corner of the mahogany table, basking under hushed shadows of the evening twilight. Sliding into a chair, I grabbed a spoon and unscrewed the lid.

First spoon…

Second spoon…

And the third one to waltz on its way, from the tip of my tongue to the cusp at its end.

And… Ahhh! It stung! I gagged at the bitterness, stomped the plate against the table and then leaned back in my chair, frowning at the sugary scam that just stabbed me in my throat.

Right in front of my house, there is an old Sheesham tree. It has been there for years now and I wonder if it has ever heard me cry in the silence of lonely midnights… for, when I wake up to the dawns of such nights, I find some wilted leaves mourning at the ground underneath and the tree feels a little naked without them.

Four years ago, I walked up to it and drew a heart against your name, with the tip of my finger. Oh! Don’t worry, no one came to know… but, now when I walk past that well-kept secret…

The wind blows;

Leaves rustle;

And I look at the tree and sigh back… We have a language of our own.

I mean… of course, it has seen it all! From that dreamy smile, when you walked past that door for the first time… to that sly spark in my eyes, when our lips touched; from those quiet questions that yearned to leave my lips, when you left the door frowning… to that lonely sigh when you didn’t choose to return.

I am afraid… it knows way too much for comfort! I might have failed to hide the piercing hatred my eyes spat in the last four years.

I am afraid that the tree breathed in the poison of my rage, flowers wilted in the ruthless fire of my pain and some lost bees took that nectar away…

I am afraid… that those broken pieces of my heart burnt in my throat today… I am afraid that you left our story behind… and it lives here with me… I am afraid!

We live in a lost world.
We are wanderers, miserable vagabonds!
We feed on anger and breathe out fires, then cry at the sight of burnt cities and homeless hearts.
We gulp tears and our eyes bleed, then we frown at the sight of spilled gore.
We smoke ashes, bathe in swamps, wear mere shreds of envy and then flaunt our prides.
Such is our foolery.
And, in a world as lost as ours, we dream of love and preach its beauty.
Sing it to glory.
I believe; hiding behind our quest for bliss, we are at strife for a ‘home’.
Enraged by our solitude and grieving our nostalgia…we are demons!
We are demons, hiding behind a charming bouquet of scented paper roses.
We hawk those flowers and break inside the deserted hearts of our patrons, vowing to fill their void with nectar and honey.
But….
We are hungry bandits!
We rob them off their peace and leave them to suffer in the torment of heartbreak.
Dear ‘home’,
I know; I know that you are lost in this pack of howling misers and you fear the day when you will have to wake up… to the nightmare of a shattered heart and an empty soul.
I know; I know that you want to find your ‘home’, as much as I want to find you.
But… what assures you, that our greed won’t take over and we won’t abandon each other, as soon as we catch our breathes and the sores on our feet stop oozing blood?
What assures you, that our ‘forever’ won’t be just another voice in the piercing cacophony of lies and that our ‘happy ending’ will not abide to the taunting title of ‘crippled rainbows and fantasies’?
Dear ‘home’,
Don’t you fret the horror… It may be lying at the end of our quests?
Isn’t ‘homelessness’ a bliss, when the walls of your abode chase the daylight out of your life?
With love,
From the ‘home’ that you may never find.

The night smothered you,
With the smoke that rose above,
The burnt remains
Of your tender heart.

Now…
Now, your lungs ache,
Your guts lie,
Tied in knots,
Churning,
Wringing your life out of you.

Coiled like a foetus,
Drenched in tears,
Is that you?
Who carved these scars
Deep… in the tenders of your skin.
Is that a memoir
To your unworthy sin?

Pulling your hair,
Clenching your jaw,
Is that you?
Who strangled that beauty,
Over the rotting remains,
Of the fantasy of a paradise?

I know…
I know my friend,
You’ve waited for the dawn…
Like the staunch nightingale,
Waits for the last of the amber,
To fade away.

Don’t you fall prey,
To your bouts of fear!
Don’t you dare concede,
To the taunts,
Blurted by the deadly demons,
Of your crippling anxiety…!

For…
The dawn mustn’t shine
On your grave….

“Do you believe in ghosts?”

Yeah…

They live in my closet,

And yours too,

Don’t they?

 

There are nights, when I wake up,

Lying in this pool of sweat,

Or… is that blood?

I never chose to know…

 

Those eerie nights, I hear then growl,

Or… is that, their kind of a scream?

I never chose to know..

 

They must stare at me, from the creek and crevice,

Of the worn wood,

To know that, I am trembling with fear,

To know that, they need to howl,

Sing those tears.

 

There are days when I hear them knock,

Knock on my mind,

Knock me, off my ground,

In a ditch of worms,

Eating me up.

 

Perhaps… they’ve been dead since the dawn of the last summer,

But they are waiting for me,

To bury them,

… And, what am I waiting for?

The night of the next winter?

 

They are dead, yet alive enough,

To have an appetite,

To fantasise a feast,

the want… to feed on my soul.

 

They are dead, yet alive enough,

To be ridiculed for their deeds,

To be cursed for the gore,

Yet… to be called a part of my heart,

The corpse of a dead Ghoul.

The thunder is the sinner… It sins to defy the clouds. It roars for the agony, yells curses at the gloom.
And oh! How the world gasps at the sight of that war!

Those tiny drops of water… the ones to abandon the magnificence of the heavens… the ones to fall on the loathed and barren fields. They will be cursed for their compassion!

Those clouds… those cruel and audacious clouds, they just deprived the world of its light. They dared to contempt the sun. They will be doomed with the wrath of coward hearts… The ones who are scared of the dark.

These winds… they must be held for causing bereavement. They left another house in drought. They left the thirsty throats suffering… dry and choking… to bring rains to another land of arid torture.

All of these… they are sinners.

Guilty…

They must be sued…

For caressing the wounds of the broken hearts…
For bringing love to the despised…
For bringing peace to the devastated…
For bringing hope to the forlorn…

That is how the world works…
We need to follow the law of the land…

Click here to read chapter-10.

Alex slowly opened his eyes as he woke up from a long night’s sleep. His head was slightly hurting and he felt a little dizzy because of the influence of all the medicines. It took a while before he completely gained his consciousness. He looked around in hopes of finding Stella in his room, but she wasn’t there.

“Must have gone back to take rest!”

He said to himself as he smiled. Someone knocked on his door.

“Come in!”

A tall man, probably in his late twenties, entered the room.

“Yes?” A sudden fear struck Alex as he saw him.

“Hi! Alex! I am John, Stella’s boyfriend!”

Alex’s frown eased as he heard that and a small, welcoming smile took its place.

“Oh! Hi! Nice to meet you! I am sorry….”

“No! Don’t be sorry! I can totally understand! After that fight, you must have been very scared of every other stranger!”

“Yeah!” Alex smiled and nodded in agreement…then an awkward silence took abode in the room. Alex started playing with his fingers, giving away his restlessness. John sensed that.

To lighten the air and start a conversation, he asked, “Would you mind if I take that chair and sit beside your bed?”

“No! Please make yourself comfortable!”

“Thanks!”

He helped himself with the chair and sat beside Alex. There was an unforeseen change in Alex’s expression. A thought dawned over him, “If John is in the town then Stella might have gone to complete the formalities to sell the house.” Alex panicked for a second but then he took a long deep breath and came back to his senses.

“Hey, John! I am feeling a little uneasy; will you please call the nurse for me?”

“Yeah! Sure!”

John left the room to find the nurse. Meanwhile, Alex got up from his bed and reached for the phone in his room taking support from tables and chairs as they came in his way. Tripping over a few times, Alex finally managed to reach the phone, he picked up the receiver and dialed Stella’s number.

“The number you have dialed is either switched off or not reachable at the moment….”

Alex slammed the receiver on the table. “NO! NO! NO! Alex you can’t let this happen! I need to do something.”

Alex walked towards the door to inspect any signs of John coming back. He was nowhere around. Alex made his way out of the room into the corridor and started to walk towards the exit of the hospital.

“Alex!”

John called from behind. Alex stopped dead at his spot. John ran towards him and put his arm around the shoulder to support him.  “What happened? You should go and take rest!”

With a snap, Alex pulled back his arm. The force knocked Alex off his feet and he fell down.

“Alex!”

John quickly kneeled down to pick him up. “Alex, stop behaving like a kid! Tell me, where do you want to go? I will take you there!”

“John! Take me to Stella! Quick! We don’t have much time!”

“She has gone back to take rest! What’s so urgent?”

“Have you both sold the house already?”

“NO! Some formalities are yet to be completed! Why?”

Alex eased down; he gave out a deep sigh and ran his fingers through his hair. The fact that the house wasn’t sold yet was a big relief! But…But Alex needed to stop Stella before it was too late. “John! Don’t ask questions! Just take me to Stella!”

The urgency in Alex’s voice prompted John to be quick on his feet. He quickly took Alex to the car, helped him in and drove off to the house. Within no time, they were at their destination.

John helped Alex get off the car and took him towards the front door, but before they could have gone any further, Alex held John back.

“Do you hear those voices?”
Alex peeked into the front yard and pulled himself back immediately, his hand covering his mouth to imprison the cry of long-wished joy. He couldn’t believe what he just saw. He couldn’t believe that Stella and her parents were together, sitting in the front yard of their house, looking like a family.

“Is that all related to the….”

“Art gallery!” Stella’s mom intervened and then continued, “When you went away, our life felt empty. Drought doomed over our happiness. Every day, every single moment that we spent breathing felt like a pilgrimage to seek you back….” Emma pushed back her tears, the tears begged for freedom, “The only thing that brightened your father’s day was his art… he spent night and day, working on his paintings. He missed the court proceedings, his client lost their cases, his reputation as a lawyer started fading away and eventually new cases stopped coming in.”

Stella took her mother’s hands in her own as she fought with her own tears, “…eventually, our financial condition started declining, we came under debt, and everything…everything became so difficult. Your father started his own art gallery in hopes of being able to do something about the situation. He used the basement of the house to set up the gallery. By god’s grace, he was even able to secure good deals for his paintings but as soon as the lenders got to know about the hefty price that we were being paid for the paintings, they planned to smuggle them away and started trading on them. All those people who you came across with in the past few days were the landlords and the money lenders. God bless Alex, he has been protecting us against them since years. We decided to not tell you about any of this so that you can be at peace in your world.”

“Then why did you transfer the house in my name? You could have sold it and paid back the debt!”

“A life drowned under debt is much more comfortable than a life spent yearning for the memories of our beloved daughter. We were in debt but selling this house would have rendered us poor.”

Alex and John didn’t even realize when they entered the yard while listening to the conversation.

Stella opened her mouth to say something but she ditched her words when she saw them.

“Alex! John!”

After getting to know about her parents’ feelings for the house, will Stella still be able to sell it? How will her calling affect her relationships? What new turn will her life take now?Find out in the upcoming chapters of “When I walked through…..”Follow the blog to receive an e-mail every time we release a new chapter.

 

 

Fallacy…

The day showered last of its sheen upon the world as flakes of snow descended from the heavens above. The landscape around was a vast stretch of snow, a white blanket as far as the eye could see. The road that I was following was like a sharp knife cutting through the blanket.

Tall trees stood on either side of my path. They were covered in snow…concealed under a cold white mask.

There was silence but not peace. The air was tense, taut enough to wring out bravery out of the bravest. It was the calm before the storm. I needed shelter!

As I continued on my path, exploring my surroundings for a safe refuge, my eyes fell upon a cottage. My happiness knew no bounds. I rushed through the woods, as fast as I could, but…but as I approached further, I noticed!

I noticed that a woman stood behind the window, as if she had been waiting for me since an eternity, as if she knew that I would come.

Her eyes were glowing; a strange fire was burning in them, a fire so hypnotic that you could even get lost watching it.

A light snow flake landed on my nose. I looked around, realizing that the storm had already begun. Winds were howling like hungry wolves. I braced myself to run as fast as I could. I had to reach the shelter!

But….as I turned towards it, I saw that the cottage was ablaze, fire eating it up, an epitome of the flames in the woman’s eyes.

She was still standing there. I looked in her eyes to question her intent. Light from the flames revealed her face.

She was ME! Me?

She gave me a crooked smile and left me to suffer in the storm.

My mind burned the last bit of love in my heart and left my heart to suffer in the storm of hatred!

Across the Fire….

When I walked through….

My eyes were squinting as I stood under the blazing afternoon Sun. My brow was frowned, lined with sweat. My legs were limping from all the fatigue; and my mind was full of chaos…chaos of the fight between the heart and the brain, between passion and sanity! The path ahead of me was forked!

I stood there, betrayed by the journey that I had embarked upon. It asked me questions that I never promised to answer, gave me scars that I never wished to embrace…made me choose my soul against the world or…the world against my soul!

In front of me, was the horizon…the unsung liar! The one who had sung to me the lies of this world, the fallacy of life…the one who tricked me, deceived me to believe the love story of the serene sky and the jovial Earth and how they come together in the end…the one who made me fantasize a life where I wouldn’t have to choose between parts of my own being!

But Alas! I stood there, waiting for life to tear me apart!