“Hey, you look distracted. Something’s up?
“Just wondering how to pen down some things.”
“Expressions can be difficult, you know.”
“As if there’s a bucket of thoughts that I cannot empty.”
“Maybe, you need to find it again.”
“The lost mug.”
“Lost days, lost time, lost wars, and now my reading appetite.”
Read a bookmark in his cook book.
“Knowing you is like knowing a new map.”
“What’s in this map?”
“You confused me.”
“I don’t think I want to be your exotic country, where you think only you are the traveler. Confused, still?”
“My directions are.”
The hippie walked away towards the setting sun, as he lay there looking at the horizon with his compass pointing west.
“People might get a heart attack, don’t you think?”
“If their heart races too fast, they might.”
“I think it’s dangerous to be close.”
“You know, someone once asked me if my heart was racing fast like theirs. We were sitting pretty close.”
“What did you say?”
“I said it didn’t. Because, it didn’t.”
“But, right now, I can feel my heart beating, faster than usual.”
“Does that suppose to mean anything?”
“I don’t know if it means anything. But, I am just saying.”
“You think it is something?”
“Just the side-effects, I guess.”
The high of half a joint became a threat to lust.
“Do you know what people are most scared of ?”, the teacher asked her class.
“Yes, nuclear bombs!”, one of the 14 year old replied.
“No, they aren’t.”
“But, it kills people.”
“Do you know what else kills more?”
The class was done for the day.
“The more we meet, the more we are strangers.”
“But, you make art in bed. Is that how you draw with strangers?”
The fling took a new turn.
“But, don’t you want an independent house?”
Just one sentence was enough to alter how she wanted to think. Hundreds of conflicts rose again. New faces. New fights. Same place.
“You’re not over your ex, are you?”
“It’s unsorted, certain things. It’s complicated.”
“Or is it that you think it is love, so you don’t want to get over?”
“You ask too many questions, don’t you?”
“I just wanted to know.”
“Love is death. Would you want it?”
Holding her close to his chest as his hands run over her skinny jeans,
He asked, “How do you wear such things? Isn’t it uncomfortable?”
“No. But, it is difficult sometimes.”
“When is it difficult?”
“When you want to feel.”
They laughed, pulled each other closer. More in one night.
There was a dark room outside, or maybe inside. And, my laptop cursor was blinking. Somewhere in between the ticking of a wall clock and a stoned stare at the screen. There was movement all around, and I couldn’t move. But, I did move. I moved so much that my legs were exhausted to the extent of feeling nothing. There were silhouettes all around the room. Dancing silhouettes in shades of something familiar. Something like truth. They were shades of truth. Those shades don’t blind, don’t hurt. They ease. And, I realized why dark is a synonym of light. They aren’t different. Just then, my screen light went off . I silenced, and that silenced all movements in the room. Maybe, outside the room. I still couldn’t figure. All I could see was void. It wasn’t that kind of void which is full when I see right. It was more like an empty echo where I don’t get answers, only the questions come back. Stark black caged me like smoke and I felt heavy. Heavy not physically but like a block, a dead end. It enveloped me from outside as it crept inside known and unknown holes in me. My legs of thoughts subsided, and somehow I felt more exhausted. I screamed and screamed for the silhouettes, the dances to return. I wanted to be free like that when I moved with no movements. But, there was no answer. I plugged in the charger. The screen lighted. The cursor started blinking. All of a sudden, silhouettes were reborn. Again to the same rhythm of a clock and a stoned stare. This time even merrier. And, then it struck. The room was nothing but the black cursor on my white laptop screen moving fanatic alphabets, all this while. And, I didn’t want to leave that room.