Coins
It’s not about being happy or sad, right or wrong, nice or mean and its not about the fact that I am not good (or read perfect) ; it’s actually that I am fine with being ‘Grey’.
Once upon a time called never, in a land of no where… there was a little boy; Adam. He entered the carnival, with lights flowing all along the sky and music and wine and people having the all the merry time possible on earth, he looked in his pocket. Adam had seven coins in his pocket, with seven coins he was not the richest man in his lands and so his quest for making the best use of them started. He entered a sweet shop and asked the shopkeeper what could he get for 7 coins. The shopkeeper who was a chubby man with bulldog mustaches gave him a broad smile and welcomed him.
“My little master, you can have a lot of sweets for 7 coins. How about this one over here? ” he pointed to a container full of color full candy. ” Or you can also try our specialty… over here… this one.”
Adam looked around almost every kind of sweet in the shop and said “Can I have all of it?”
The shopkeeper smiled and said “No, sir. You can only have any one.”
Adam dropped his shoulders and his eyes on the floor, “But when I’ll have one in my hands the other ones looks tastier than the one I have.”
“So, have you made a decision yet?” the shopkeeper who was understanding the problem the young boy facing asked him.
Adam shook his head in ‘no!’ and said, “Thank you mister. Perhaps I should look a better way to spend my 7 coins”
The shopkeeper waved him good-bye and wished him luck with a smile.
Next Adam entered a toy shop almost the same thing happened there. He purchased almost every toy once and then returned it within a few moments and picked another one. The toy maker who was not as sweet as the sweet’s shopkeeper soon lost interest in his not-so-possible customer and went no with his other work. Finally Adam decided that may be toys are not something these coins are made for. There he was almost 2/3rd of the day past; again on streets with nothing but what he brought. After trying a couple of more shops and still with no success Adam landed himself on a bench in the middle of this whole festival. The enthusiasm and excitement on the young pinkish face was fading away and the festival around him almost seemed like a mere chaos to Adam.
After a few moments an elderly man, “Almost my granpa’s age and like santa beard” as Adam would have said; came and sat beside him. Both smiled to each other, though Adams smile was more out of respect and just a formality unlike the courteous and loving smile the old man had on his face.
“What is bothering you, young man?”
“The coins I guess… I don’t think I deserve them.”
“And why do you think that? “
“I can’t even find a satisfactory way to spend them.” Adam told him the whole story how everything else looks so pretty and nice and tasty once he tries to spend them on something. The old man gave a wise-looking smile and said,”Only one man can help you with this”
Adam’s eyes brightened and he looked at the old man for the answer. The old man put his hand on Adam’s head and hustled his hair, “It’s you, look at other kids some of them didn’t even had as much coins as you have, still they are happy with whatever they can afford, It’s you; who have to choose to be happy or not to be, not the things you can have with those 7 seven coins.”
Adam thought for a long moment and stood up. Just before turning his back to the old-wise-man he said, “Sir, if happiness was just one of the two choices, no one would have chosen otherwise. I guess happiness is something you can and you should keep chasing all your life, before you start feeling too old, too tired and too wise. Until you decide to give up the chase and decide to settle for ‘whatever you can afford’ you should keep looking.”
Adam walked away and he is still looking for the perfect way to buy happiness of those coins. At times he feels a little lost, a little confused standing in the middle of the chaos with his hands in his pocket and eyes on the floor. But soon he again start wandering from shop to shop chasing what he might never have… happiness.
The Noon Tomorrow.
Comrades! Tomorrow when the sun shall reach its peak, at noon we shall see the rise of a different sun in our hearts, minds and souls. We shall see the rise of; as some would call it; the freedom. Tomorrow my batch mates by noon we shall be free men. I for one is not very sure; if we are ready for this so called freedom, but now it seems that this is our destiny. The walls of this place has played a very important role in building (or destroying whatever way you see it) the character of what we call the men in all of us. I don’t know if the ‘freedom’ would come to us as the great ‘power of free will’ or it is going to be a life time imprisonment in the wide-open-big-bad world outside.
“These walls are funny. At fist you are fascinated by them, then you hate them, then you like them and then you depend on them” – Red (Morgan Freeman, Shawshankredemption) and that my friend is called being institutionalized. We are just a little scared, a little confused, a little nostalgic and me for one a little unwilling to take the next step; standing on the verge something which is anything but freedom for me. It may sound crazy but friends and fests are not the only thing I am going to miss, even the exams, classes, corridors of academic complex and the long empty roads of this campus would be there to be missed.
Tomorrow as the clock hits 12 hours we shall be packing it up to leave the place; what in every sense has been more than just our home.
Bus Stop.
DISCLAIMER: This is purely fictitious. Comment you like it or hate it but please, for the love of fucking god, don’t ask me any questions or explanations or clarifications, I simply hate it! This is pure, baseless imagination and it has nothing to do with my real life.
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It was a random day in a random city. It was one of those days when you don’t feel right, one of those days when you really find it hard to recall a reason to get out of the bed, one of those days when nothing seems to be worthy enough, when winters seems too cold and sun too bright, when eyes feels lazy but you can’t get sleep, when your throat hurts but you want to smoke one more. It was one of those frustrating, hopeless and depressing days.
I was sitting in a bar; a guy came and sat right beside me. He was tall, lean, a little older than me and his body language clearly suggested that he was not having the best day of his life either, of course you don’t expect anything less for people sitting in a bar having vodka at 2.30 in the afternoon. We sat there and none of us was really interested in making new friends, we never spoke a word.
Around 4 when I was almost settled for the evening I left the bar for the bus stop. I was sitting there and thinking what kind of a pathetic looser am I? I was watching people’s faces some smiling some not, some tensed some not, some bored some not, some confused some not and then I thought what was I? Where was I? Who was I? Is someone even noticing me is I even visible? Well don’t think this is too much, people do think crap when they are drunk, and so do I.
The guy from the bar came and sat on the same bench.
This time he said “hey”,
I replied with “Hmm… Hi, done?”
“I guess so and I hope so! You are a regular day time customer?”
“No, just a crappy, useless, boring and depressing day dragged me here.”
And then I asked him something which may be I shouldn’t have, “Are you?” He smiled and said, “Yep, and guess what for the same reason all my days are like that.”
I said, “Nah dude! Don’t worry; everything turns out fine or at least manageable just hang on.”
Then there was silence, both of us were staring at the road, I guess either we missed our buses or the time was passing really slowly. After the long eternal pause he said, “Did you ever thought of killing yourself?”
I smiled and said, “Yeah, a few times, but then I figure a way out before the hangover gets off.”
“No, I mean when you are in your senses.”
“I don’t remember of any, nothing went that wrong and I think nothing can.” He continued, “I mean you planned it all, how when, bought things you need to do it and then you came out of your house for the last time to see the sunset for the last time, you did that?”
I would have been scared if I was not that drunk but I was so with no exclamation I said, “No man! never did that. Have you?”
He laughed and said “never before today.”
“So you are telling me that you are going to go home and kill yourself”
“Well, that’s the plan.”
Again a long pause, silence it was almost dark by then. I broke it this time, “So why are you telling me this? And what the fuck am I supposed to say?”
He said, “I am telling you this because you are sitting here with me at this very important evening of my little left life and you are supposed to say nothing, that what I expect.”
“Hmm… fair enough. So, why, THE reason?”
“Nothing in particular, you can say for the same reason that you are here (bar), for the same reason I don’t want to be here (world) anymore.”
“I am here mainly because I had nothing better to do, I was bored, may be a little depressed.”
“Hmm… same here.”
“But mine is just one day, I won’t be the same tomorrow, I will feel better.” He smiled and said, “Then may be I am not that hopeful about tomorrow.”
Though I had no intentions to do so but unknowingly I was trying to stop him. I said, “Why not? You can try I guess.”
“Nah! I have no good reason to try”
“What about your family and friends? You just want to chicken out?”
“Yep! I am being selfish and coward at the same time for one last time”
By now I really hated him for many reasons but the most because he just seemed to be the exaggerated version of my self. I was thinking this poor son-of-a-bitch really deserves what he wants i.e. to die.
Then we didn’t talk anything else, after a few minutes he left without saying anything. I don’t know what he did that night and for some reason I never tried to find out. When he left I was still bored and not feeling like going home but somehow I was not depressed. Funny how a man who is about to kill himself in a few hours can give hope. Yes, strange things happen when you are drunk.
No need to read.
Disclaimer: Some readers may find it utterly useless but just to make it clear my intentions never were to write anything useful.Don’t read this it’s just the useless crap of a jobless head.
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I have always been confused about the four years being too long or too short but now I think it’s accurate. Of course not talking academically I feel I am done here. Many won’t agree with it, they still want to continue having fun with friends, doing crazy stuff and living here but for them I would say they have started it late, may be initially they were busy with something else and not ‘having’ and ‘doing’ and ‘living’. Some would say that they got fed up of this place long ago for them I would say that they never ‘had’ or ‘done’ or ‘lived’.
For almost all of us the Guwahati campus didn’t turned out to be exactly what we had planned for ‘college’ and we may never actually experience what it could have been like to have got what we expected, but I like to think that what ever I had here doesn’t deserve a regret. It has been a little far better to call it a bad experience. Friends wise it has been heaven, fun wise it has been a roller-coaster, comfort wise it has been a little itchy, academically a little blank.
I am not bored or fed up of this place but I just want to get of here before the day comes when I am. I would love to be in for more of Alcheringa and more of Manthan but not now, this much is enough for now. I know I would be dead nostalgic at this same time of the year next year but if given a chance I would not like to continue my life this same way. In four years I changed, you changed and so did everyone else. And just like our stay here the changes also have been a good blend of both good and bad. I learned to dislike people (yeah a new thing for me), to smoke, to drink, I realized that their is almost nothing that can’t be handled with words and most important not all things ends well. The two things I am hoping to learn as soon as I get out of here are how to value money and how not to care about ’sorry’, ‘please’ and ’sad people’.
Talking of people who made me learn a lot well my kameng 3rd floor taught me how to live it king size no matter what you have or others think, you are the master of the little bubble around your head. My alcher-dihing group taught me how to beg, their are too many givers and too few beggers. My techniche-kapili team taught me how to make a B-grade, cheap joke out of everything and everyone, everything in this world can be brought down to just above your thighs and just below your belly. Though I can’t think of any example but these things are not as bad as they sound, sometimes they are fun and sometimes they are useful.
The bottom line is thank you for everything, I loved it. I can but I don’t want to think of it being any better but now let me leave. I am almost ready for the change I am almost ready to move, I am almost ready to go.
Give me a reason to quit!
Is it a summer’s noon that’s drowning me in my own sweat or is it a winter’s night that’s chilling my bones? The sun is still up or it has sailed away in the ocean of stars? Is my heart still beating or it’s just my lungs who are pumping harder, looking for smoke in this air full of useless oxygen?
Unlike the general opinion, I did not started smoking for style. So until last week I never regretted it and never tried to quit. So I never had the taste of that thirst. But last week when I went to visit my parents, I had to live without it for 7 long days. The days were somehow fine but the nights were haunting. I started trying to sleep around 12, I was sitting on my bed till 1 all alone, useless, starring at the wall, practically blank. By 1.30 I was lying on the bare floor, my eyes begging for sleep but my brain refusing to forget about that elixir of life. When I saw the watch it was 2.15 and the only two things I could listen were the clock ticking and my heart beating. I am starring at my hand for as long as I can remember, I was thinking that the day will never dawn. This was just a small part of a the whole night and the whole night was just a part of that whole week and the whole week was a very tiny part of the unending pain of the worthless life of a chain smoker.
(It is not the feeling and experience of the subtle “nicotine high” which is addictive. The high itself is vaguely pleasant, but other major psychological effects happen in the background which don’t cause any noticeable “high” sensation. The primitive, and unconscious, brain receives a false “reward” from the effects of the nicotine. The brain responds to this “reward” by developing a very strong primitive response which is nicotine addiction. In terms of neurology of the brain, noticeable physical changes occur. Uptake receptor growth causes a chemical imbalance in the brain which make the user feel depressed and anxious when nicotine levels are low. This is caused by the brain attempting to compensate for the release of so many “reward” chemicals.) This results a patience less night, waiting for the morning and waiting for someone; anyone to talk to you, to take your mind away form that stick which has the lover at one end and the killer on the other.
No anti-smoking TV advertisement, no posters, no sms nothing could have explained me or could have made me realize it.
Few hard days, a puff offered, a couple of them in a gathering… converts to 3 a day then 7 and before you realize, you have a packet in your left and a lighter in your right pocket… BANG you have got yourself a chain smoker. And then even the thought of quitting makes you anxious. Smoking makes nothing easier, nothing simpler, nothing better. You keep on looking for reasons to quit but nothing seems to be worthy enough. The pleasure soon becomes a need, the high soon becomes a habit, the peace soon becomes just an illusion that last only a few minute with every cigarrette with every one of them the illusion time decreases and you keep on increasing the number. But now you have to live with it.
Falling out of ‘It’
It’s a bright sunny afternoon in Italy, a Thursday and I am free from almost everything here,sitting on bench near the harbor of this beautiful city called Cagliari. People in this country really find it hard to speak in English. When I was as calm as sleeping with my eyes open, an old man’s voice threw pebbles in the pond of my peaceful thoughts. He said, with his best efforts in English, “Can you take a picture of me and my love, please?”, as I took the camera from his hands and looked at the couple through the lens, they were around 60-65 yrs old. The man put his hand around the lady’s waist and she placed her head on his shoulder. This all may look like a ‘picture-pose’ but one thing that was not artificial and which was not a part of any ‘picture-pose’ was there smiles. I took some more pictures of the fresh-old-couple and then they walked on.
Looking at those pictures and realizing the importance of those fresh, satisfied smiles , I thought that may be its not time yet, may be I have never met a person yet in my life who would share those smiles with me. And those smiles are really worth all that wait.
To be honest guys I have already been in love(really) thrice in my 22 yrs of age. All the 3 times, it was true, honest and ever lasting from my side, but just from my side. All the three times I cried, threw things away, took up some bad habit, quarreled with my best friends n all , when I found that it’s again a failure. Every time I am the one who falls in love and every time I am the one who is thrown out of it. First time she was 2 yrs older to me, so she took it as a joke, second time her mother threw me out of her house and then they moved to some other city, third time ,the strongest one and the most painful one, I was late, she had some history, so though she needed me but not in the same way as I did. Yeah don’t worry some day I’ll write a book on women in my life, so wait for all the details.
So as I said that every time I was thrown out of love, but for the fist time that fresh-old-couple made me feel that I was actually falling out of all my ‘loves’ by myself. This feeling of falling out of it is really different from falling in, but in no way it is less beautiful than it. When you fall in love some things losses their focus and some starts looking prettier and prettier. I won’t describe the flowers, trees, lakes, her smile,nature, small talks with her etc. people who have been in love already knows it and for those who are yet to fall in love… I think they should wait. While, when you fall out of it those things that lost focus earlier again rushes back into your life and it all seems like a re-birth, you again realize the importance of those things, things like chatting all night with your friends and not only about her, things like drinking wine every night and roaming on streets without thinking about the fact that all this would make her angry, things like flirting with every girl you come across, things like sitting alone on a bench at the harbor on a Thursday afternoon spending time with yourself thinking about people who care for you and love you, and not just thinking of another way to make some one happy who doesn’t want to be happy with you.
This feeling is actually better then all the other 3 times I have fallen in love. This feels like me, not trying to be someone else for someone. All these things makes the sun more soothing, harbor more peaceful, the world more beautiful and my life worth living again. 
Golden Axe:
I am 23 years old; I drink twice or even trice a week, I smoke like a chimney more than 50% of my wakeful time, I have a cigarette in my hand, I hardly sleep in nights and if I continue my life this way soon all the bladders in my body will burn away and I’ll die like all of you are going to someday, may be just a little sooner. I know most of you must have identified yourself with this description at some point or at least you must have remembered someone who is slowly killing himself like me. It seems that guys like me have made every possible mistake that a young man can make in our shoes. Recently I read somewhere that to be happy in life only three things are considered necessary first money, second health and third stupidity; however if you are not stupid enough rest of the two are useless. Now I hope you understand why guys like me are least bothered about the former two things in life.
Once there was a young boy, he had no family, no money, and no real friends almost nothing in his life. Every day he used to take up his axe, his only property, go to the jungle and come back with some logs to sell them in the market. He was a hard working guy and though he had nothing but some how the satisfaction of his hard work kept him going. One day when he was walking by the village temple, the priest called him up and said “you work so hard, you should also start praying to God, he will definitely make your life better.” The boy replied “how will he make my life better?”
“He will give you whatever you want, if you pray enough”, said the priest.
The boy said “but I don’t know what I want?”
The boy was innocent and the priest was clever, experienced.
The priest said “so are you completely satisfied and happy with your life? You don’t want anything else? You want to do the same hard work that pays so less all your life?”
The boy had no answer.
Priest continued “you want more from life, you deserve more from life, you just don’t know and that’s what I am here for, to show you the right way”.
The boy started praying from that day with all his heart. A few years went by and without any fail he continued both his hard work and his praying. One day he climbed a tall tree to cut some big logs of wood and while he was doing so some how the axe just slipped off his hands. Now he is way above the ground and is looking for some help. And out of frustration he says “C’mon God help me, please”, then suddenly out of nowhere a man comes and asks the boy, “what do you want kid?” the boy without thinking for a moment says, “I just want my axe back.”
The man says, “Is that all you want, I can give you more than that.”
The boy realizes that the man was not an ordinary man, and very innocently asks him, “are you God?”
The man smiles and says, “I am his messenger, tell me what you want?”
“But I don’t know what I want, what should I ask for?”
“That, I can’t tell you”.
The boy was tired hanging up there and hungry, he thought for a moment and said, “Give me my axe back and make it a silver one.”
The man smiled and said “you are innocent and good at heart, so I am helping you a little, take your axe and I have made it a gold one.” And the man disappeared.
The boy was happy about the gold axe until the next day when he realized that a gold axe cannot cut wood for him, though he can sell it and live a life without even working that hard. But the boy sat by the same tree and cried. You know why he was crying? Because though he had nothing and he was not happy with his life before, but he has lost that single thing that kept him going, the satisfaction of his hard work. Now he thinks that I never wished for a golden axe, I never even wished for anything, I was alone, I was poor but I had my axe, I had my reason to wake up in the morning and go to work and I had hope.
The story is very simple and at some point would look stupid to some of you but if you think again, me and guys like me are just sitting by that tree, crying with that golden axe in our hands. Hope you would figure out who is the boy, who is the priest and what is the golden axe?
Meet ‘The-End’:
Its 12:47 in the night, like most of the other nights I am not able to sleep. I don’t know why this happens, I think in the day light when there is chaos everywhere, just to escape it I sleep and in the night I roam about to enjoy this peace. So I am just taking a walk outside the campus, somewhere I don’t know, along the river. Like most of the times too raveled with my own self, walking with my hands in my pockets. It’s a full moon, all I can hear is the flowing water and the wind playing with trees along the road side as if they are kids and its just messing with their hairs. As a rule I have my one last cigarette in my pocket and I am about to lit it up.
“Hmm… so I guess its time, Aditya” I heard a voice, actually the voice was so similar to mine I thought that I was talking to my self, because I was all alone and I’ve heard no one following me.
“What are you thinking?” the voice came from over my shoulder. I turned around to see who was it? And the sight was something I can call the “most” surprising one. A guy dressed all black, with a smile on his face, a smile so confident, so obvious, so soothing a smile that can give even a full moon some competition and the fact that made it hard to believe was he looked exactly like me. But with a little more satisfaction and happiness on his face. My obvious reaction should be “what the fuck?” and I should be scared but I can’t explain you the calmness on his face that though I was shocked and amazed but some how I was not scared.
“Who are you?” I said,
Without disturbing the calmness on his face he said, “I thought you recognized me.”
“You are me?”
“Not exactly. Actually I am your end, I am your death.”
Even the environment and the situation were odd and scary but I couldn’t help it, I started laughing.
“My death?”
His smile grew wider and he said, “Yep… that’s right.”
“So my own death is standing right in front of me? You are an angel of death?” I couldn’t stop laughing.
“Hmm… ‘Angel’ is a word of your choice; I won’t call my self an angel”
“Ok… why should I believe you? Actually how the fuck should I believe you?” I said.
Still the coolness and calmness on his face was maintained and it has started to annoy me a little bit. “ So I guess you have a better explanation of the fact that a guy who looks exactly like you, whom you have never seen is standing in front of you at this time of night.”
“You may be someone who looks like me and just trying to fuck up my mind.”
“Yeah… that is a possibility but then how would I know that you have exactly one cigarette in your left pocket and before listening to my voice you were about to lit that up, thinking about the little fight you and your brother had last summer?”
Now I would admit, I was a little scared.
He continued, “of course you have an option of not believing me, it would surely not affect my work here but then as a friend I would say its better if you do.”
After a long scary pause, I gathered the courage to speak,
“So if I believe you, its time? I mean it’s all over? What are we waiting for then?”
“Yeah it’s almost time. So you have any last wish?”
I thought for a moment and said, “I guess I would have that last cigarette of mine”
He smiled again and said “sure, lit up one for me too”
“But I have just one.” And as I slide my hand into my pocket I found two of them. I thought how could…? But then an extra cigarette is nothing to be amazed of than finding a guy who looks exactly like me and says that he is my death. I lit up both of them and we sat on the bank of the river. I know it looks foolish but the situation and the confidence on his face somehow convinced me that he was not a fake and besides I had no other option.
After a few moments I said, “So how exactly is it going to happen? I mean accident; I would drown in this river, heart-attack, brain ham rage or what?”
He laughed and said, “I will just touch your head and it’s all over, after that it’s for the world to figure out, I don’t think you need to worry about that.”
“Would it be painful?”
“Are you really worried about the pain right now? By the way it won’t be, I’ll take care of it”
Actually he was right I was not worried about the pain. Interrupting my thoughts he asked, “So what are you worried about then?”
“You can read my mind?”
“I told you its better if you believe me. So what is it?”
With a sigh I replied, “About the people who love me or at least like me, they will miss me… huh?”
“C’mon man they had your whole life to care about you and however most of them will forget you in a week or so, some will take a few months and a very few would name one of their kids after you and then scold him and kick his ass for the rest of his life.” and he started laughing.
And now I realized that there is actually nothing to worry about and even I am having a smoke with my own death, I was feeling this relaxed, free and happy for the first time as long as can I remember.
“So what your name, what should I call you?”
“Hmm… I don’t think we have so much time”
After a few more moments, I asked,
“So what’s with your look? Do you look like a mirror to everyone?”
Again with the same coolness that he has maintained he replied,
“No… actually I look like the way you want me to see.”
“Hey… do you even meet everyone before taking them away?”
He laughed and said, “What makes you think that you are special? Of course I do.”
“So are there others like you?”
“Yep, one for everyone. You know you ask a lot of questions…”
I smiled and said, “Usually I am not that curious, but then it’s not everyday that you have a fag with your own death.”
I continued, “So what is all this last wish stuff? What if I asked something you could not give me?”
“You really think there is something I can’t?”
“I could have asked to marry some superstar or marry my love and have kids, and then would you have waited for me?”
He said, “I don’t think someone would be that stupid to ask to marry a superstar when he knows it’s all over and he is going a better place than this. About marrying your love and having kids, man its life and you can’t ask for life from your death.”
“Hmm… but I should have asked for a moment to call and tell someone I love you even now.”
“Hehehe… but you didn’t and I knew you won’t.”
“So you already knew what I was about to ask for?”
“Yep…”
“Then why did you asked me?”
Now he put his arm over my shoulder, smiled and said, “What do you think I am doing talking to a guy who is about to die? Why am I sharing things with you? Why am I answering all your questions when I know and you know that it’s of no use to anyone? I knew what you will say and I know what you are about to say, but I think you have a few more minutes left and my job is also a bit boring so why not some time pass?”
Without wasting much time only after a few seconds I asked him, “Where am I going hell, heaven or I‘ll be thrown back on this earth?”
“Well, that actually is not my department, I don’t know.”
“At least there is something you don’t know.” I said, rolling my eyes.
“C’mon there a lot of things I don’t know why don’t you help me out here. Tell me something have you lived your life, have you enjoyed it, are you ready to leave this world?”
Like most of the other times I did not had an answer ready for this one, I paused for a few seconds and said,
“If I have to answer in the shortest possible way my answer would be, No.”
“And why is that?”
“There are things I wanted to do but I never did, things I wanted to happen but they never did, so I can’t say I lived my life the way I wanted to or enjoyed it, but I guess that’s the way it is, so yes I am ready to leave this world.”
Then there was silence and both of us were looking at the beautiful river. Looking at the river I asked him the last question,
“I know you must have asked these questions about their lives to many people, can you tell me what they said?”
For the first time he answered without a smile on his face,
“Human life is not fair and it’s not fair to anyone, everyone has these unfinished business things they didn’t do, things they wanted but never happened to them and everyone reacts differently to them. Some deals this unfairness with grief, some with anger; some with denial and a few just accept it, like you.”
The sun was about to rise, the birds just woke up and were ready to fly away to gather food and as both of us took our last puff, I said,
“The fag really lasted long.” And I smiled at him.
“Hmm… it lasted the time you had left. I guess it’s time, Aditya.”
I took a deep breath and looked at him.
Now with the same calmness but without a smile on his face he said,
“Just hold my hand tight and close your eyes, don’t worry it won’t hurt.”
I smiled, stood up, held his hand which was chilling and finally closed my eyes.
Night-out 4 nothing.
Talking of dreams, some are pleasant and in the morning you regret waking up, while some are haunting and you feel safe after waking up in the middle of the night. But there are some nights when you can’t even sleep.
It’s 5.36 in the morning on a Sunday. Last night was like any other night I went to bed after having all the usual chat with friends and watching my favorite soap, but thinking of her I couldn’t sleep. Yeah I tried everything be it a walk along our hostel’s corridors or watch a boring movie I have already seen thrice, but every time I lie down on my bed and close my eyes my brain without even my permission starts imagining things, things that are too beautiful and pleasant to be described by an immature writer like me.
A winter’s morning with a light sunshine, fragrance of flower so pleasant that even a blind man who has never seen colors in his life can imagine their beauty. A long, alone beautiful boulevard with a lake on one side and a junior school on the other. The lake so calm that even the sweet voice of birds blended with the giggling of school kids was making wavelets in it. And the thing that made all of this worth imagining and writing was her hand in my hand. The mere thought of walking there at that time with her made my whole night worth sitting up straight.
As the sunlight started entering my room trying to peep into my blanket I realized that the night is over and so is this open-eyed dream of mine. It’s funny how your brain and heart plays a prank to make a fool out of you sometimes. As I left my bed and stood in the corridor, the sweet breeze once again brought the whole scene in front of my eyes and a smile on my face. I know that this is all just imagination it has never happened and it will never happen but I spent my whole Saturday night lying on my bed and thinking all this and even on this Sunday morning 6.12 AM I am standing in front of my room smiling at something that just ruined my weekend.
