A sight of albatross is they seek
Men and women in the cloak along the sea
But my messiah is there in my palms
Sleeping for the day of reckon and my call..
And one day it will open its eyes
Wearing bright armour, it will shine
And I will then run along the mighty Gods
The mighty sun and waves of clouds

And then is the time when eternity will end
And the void in the space, where the souls exist will suspend
And I will fly, not run anymore
My angel wings carrying me above the shore
My hands open..my arms free
And I rise..and I rise
to disappear in the nullity…

“May be the lines of your fate must be echoing in the air, which he must have heard”

She could sense the savageness of that sound loud and clear. Breaking the monotonic virtue of time and space. Suspended and surreal was every pulse of her existence. Her brown eyes blinked and She started thinking she may not have been feeling this

if…

She had not been frisked by that female with always suspicious look in her face in the mall. She has never liked it. The whole idea is pretty repulsive. Its nauseating and equally disturbing. But is it because she had been touched by a member of her own gender. Perhaps it was more attributed of being under watch or a sense of distrust that comes along with it, which was more disturbing. That female had ,always though, allowed the emigrants to walk in her kingdom but today she got interested in letting her hand the liberty of enjoying another woman’s presence. This might not have happened today

if…

The girl with brown eyes’s fiancee had not called her and pleaded her to wear a specific dress. And she did think to give him a bonus day by looking pretty, which was out of her nature. It took longer than she expected and this had started to irritate her. How much she wished a normal life without any affair. Without any complications of such necessities.  Funny is love as it starts with an outcome of something spiritual, something like discovering zenith by a wanderlust but gradually with time it all becomes like a child. She might have missed that call

if…

She had not forgotten to put her phone on silence mode as was her nature to do so. She liked full concentration, while she worked.  And that day she happened to have again take out her long forgotten love. “Her list”

It was there all this while. Neither it spoke anything in loud tone nor it was totally quiet. There were silent whispers though , which were unheard and unnoticed, when she started writing it. It was like a gift of magi. She committed herself to it without any repulsion but as suggestion of life..her own puzzled surreal world. It had lines.. all sorts of. They created wisdom out of just everything, such was its magic. It made perfect sense to mark it as extension of her alter ego. Why not it had all her dark desires, her surreptious prayers, her frequent complains, her boastful surprises and her sparkling laughter.

Every single line scribbled on it articulative or inarticulative bore a sense of pride. Like a warrior who have taken all the bullets and salutes to make his shoulders shine.

But that list had taken taken the shape of mental notes. Notes about talking to him. Caring for him. The list was further succumbed under the  shiny paperweight  called Career and a bag full of ambitions. It groaned hard when the transition was happening but the white noise of that singular emotion didn’t let it to be heard or known.

That day she wouldn’t have taken out that list

if…

That list had not growled out with its last energy so hard  that it toppled over, while she was searching for her childhood yearbook. She got engaged a day ago. Funny is the idea of getting engaged. You do get engaged with host of euphemisms. You tend to have a sense of numbness and at the same time heightened sense of a enigmatic loss. The sense of giving up and sense of believing playing magic tricks all round the clock.

She would not have got engaged

if.. if..if

There was a pause…

These things then came into her mind in no particular order –

• A sound of distant falling bangle
• Sunshine cutting across her best friend’s hair while they were going for school in winter
• Her moist eyes and drying lips
• Her wrist with watch on it. The seconds hands glaringly staring at her. With wisdom and blatant guts and gumption . It said “tick”
• Wetness in her abdomen with red fluid smearing out

Then the noise began to rise. She can see it. She was entering the mall. And a mad guy shouting at the male guard has taken out the tool of darkness and in order to save himself , the male guard had diverted that tool.

That tool was pointing at her and then she heard it!

The old torn paper she had in her hand which she wanted to show her fiancee today was flying in the momentary freedom.

The time, that malleable or ductile. That outlaw (err or lawful). That which defies speed under its own virtue. Patterned yet sporadic. A parallel wisdom of space. A nuisance. The devil. That clock just smiled making perfect 10:10 and said again till she couldn’t hear anymore

Tick!

naqaab pehne khwaab aaye kuch zara..

Hath chingaari..hmm hath chingaariii..

rafta rafta jo ho tere aahato ka sabab

dadhke ye dil or kare pashemaan fitarat..

na samjhe ab tak to samjhe ham teri dasta kuch zara

hath chingari pe rakh de kuch is tarah..

ye gila mausam se nahi..shikayat bas hawa ke rukh se hai sanam

badale nahi zameen ke dastak..par naseeb ke kadam..

aaj fursat mili hai qayamat ke baad..

aaj harkat jo hui hai teri jamanat ke baad..

bas ab pila de do boond apni aakho se zara..

hath chingari pe rakh de kuch is tarah..

haa hath chingari pe rakh de kuch is tarah…

Let it slip.. that dew of dawn.. let it roll like a romantic thought..

Just don’t wonder where did it go..wonder where it got lost..

The touch of hand..drenched in tears..

facile shapes in sand..appear and disappear in quenched fear..

Tried to hold it as an impulse of escaping ecstasy..

though all I can see is endless sea..

Would wait for another day..

when night would pass through the wisdom of clay..

A drop of dew and a heart drenched in wine

come tomorrow and you will be mine…

forever

Wont let it slip that dew of dawn..would hold on to that romantic thought

Wonder how perfect we are..forever in the arms is lost..

that

moment