Four of them

So, I saw them; four of them!  Call them writers, poets, philosophers or juggler of words – be my guest. Or you could call them the tiny version of Dead Poets Society – ehh ehh, we are no copy cats; are we (wink)! So let’s stick to the originality and if we fail to name them (we will find more option).

Anyhow, as I managed to keep my trace passers image intact and hide myself to the shadows of the dark, they were already on the verge of ending their conversation or debate as I could relate to. Master of words they were a target of each other and the last line was – let’s all say a paragraph and see who could express pain better! Bet? Indeed it was- though the bounty remained (remains) unknown to me…yet!!

From the words dipped in attempt and serenity, here are the excerpts that I could best hear…

And the first one goes something like this- Looking back at memories lane, there are few words I could recall that were spelt wrong. I wonder, if those were conscious or deservingly went off as they did! Roads crossed in hurry always resulted in a numb moment of standing stranded and waiting to be hit by a massive clone of souls that would haul and leave an impact stating that they want you to be one of them. What a shame! You always had a destination but still you ignored and moved on and claim that you never got a concrete way to go, well mate, you just left one behind. The tantrums of relations and their adversity is not to be accepted for what they are and pretend to be, roads measured in tears could be wet, but not muddy. At least your own footprints shall remain true to you and be the witness of your ironical glory...down to the memories lane...few words that went wrongly spelt....

Impressed and acknowledging with a node the second guy – I have wrinkles on my face, and I sit alone most of the times in the park. Doing what? Looking at little kids playing with their parents; though the parents know a ‘little’ that one day they would be me! Me? Yeah, I sow the seeds for my parents to be thrown out of the house, for, I wanted more space for my growing children. All the moments my mom spent cleaning me when I would bleed, all the moments that my dad would sweat for my bread, all the moments that they wouldn’t go out to be around me and all the moments that they could not afford a smile of their for my smirk…I forgot all. My lord would not punish me and bring me to him, for, he wants me to be here and feel the agony. Here I am sitting with you and the words follow… I fear then to see the one I want to share my time with, I would be lying if I say I would get it I would again get a hit, So I will need to learn to pass my days doing nothing and feeling nothing, The agony of me being alone with me someday finally will be hurting. But I want to know how would it end and the trauma of it, For that if I have to fear, I would fear then, so be it !!

The environment was getting heavy and now was a chance to score…

The third soul- When I was seven, my room was set on fire by my drunken uncle. All he wanted was some cash, which obviously wasn’t there in my room. Amid the fire that I witnessed that day could not burn my skin, however, the soul was taken for a ride. My geometry box, my Sanskrit book, my favorite pencil and my perfumed rubber – all gone! All gone? Nah, the Sanskrit book just survived and the next day I opened it in school, the desk mate asked me how it got burnt, all I could tell was that while studying the candle got dropped on the pages and there it was black and painted dark. Walking back home was a difficult journey but when I reached there I saw that uncle again loving me the same way as he always did – ready with a chocolate and a scooter ride, I was a kid again, I smiled again….forgotten day that it was – I recite you now…to impress for the bounty…

Ehh, quite an emotional drama (pakau), let it end now…hear the last dodo.

Fourth heaven opens its wings- I give up!

I don’t have a story to tell, I have nothing to share. I have not been a lover, I have not become a parent yet, I was not a tortured kid, but I have been a son, who has bled through the eyes. Not for my existence or for the smile that I could wear, but for my Mom, who, as honest as she was, could never adopt to the layers of peace that she deserved. Who I witnessed to be rich for some time, only to lose it and learn how a coin of 5, could change the way she would need to up bring me. All my demands that were her pride became bane for her and for her tears were my royalty. That day I vowed not to share and not to speak and be the child of demon and show her that life is not affecting me. Why do I talk today? Well, there is a bounty to win and that would help me buy a gift for her, an expensive one and thus…I would see her smile again.

With this…I walked away…for the loser (whoever it was) – was not something I wanted to see.