She could have wait till love dies…

She was no simple girl. She had dreams galore. She climbed mountains. She conquered me. Now she is gone. The confession that she is no more piles up a pressure inside me to face the tide. Tide of time and live and live and live in her love. How tough it can be, I didn’t realize until she appears again. Remembering the person who has left and the facing the same person with a different identity invites more than a living confession.

I count her the best person ever live, for me. Now, I remember her as the only one for me. Although there is no difference between these two elapsed propositions, I still think as if I am the one who has changed, unlike her. It’s like I wished to miss her and she’s gone. Had I become little more possessive, she would still be here, next to me. I should have told her: We need to wait till love dies, instead! That never happened and I am alone.

Curse!

After composing a horrendous curse on her behalf, I was about to succumb…luckily I survived.

The very next moment I was there in her doorstep asking for the compensation. We both knew, our lives were mere existence, diminutives not only with physical attributions but with both mental and rational endowments of a destitute. Like me…she too cared about things that hardly matters except few ounces of remembrance. Too much of servitude towards life. A brief!

She wanted me to curse life for letting her fell prey to its dirty designs. She was happy doing nothing. She was content living alone. Then we met…and the struggle begins. She didn’t outrightly blame me but she was astute in letting me share her insignificance in survival.

“A painful punishment
In a nursing home where dreams nourish,
Drips the captor
And the consecrated soul in tandem, thus
Testified the hoax in alteration of life!
Oh,
If you are living for life
Come join me
Let’s curse life for it’s sake, for
You too cry like me
For it’s sake,
All truth seems irrelevant with reading of time!
Come join me
Let’s abandon life for it’s own sake.”

But, unlike me, she knew hacked values. May be she wanted to curse me!

Life is filth!

Find an oasis in the desert sun,

And try to snatch a life…

Life full of hope and filth!

Yea, we live a filthy life…

The oblivion, the chase,

The date-tree, the money and the comfort…

It’s all filth,

And we called it Oasis.

Life is filth!

I am still a boy!

To survive in love, you need little madness…to dream of all the possibilities. Though it’s almost impossible to bear the HEARTACHE. But still, it seems the wish for a glimpse is enough for the lifetime….or say, eternity. No PARDON is not enough for living without her.

I was a boy. I am still a boy…A boy in the wilderness with little desires. As a boy, I faithfully proclaim to you that my desires are all surrounding you. You never know, all along…the story is you, only you. And I never get tired telling and retelling this story. Please read it once more!

A Suspect!

I was a suspect who wished to live. They thought I would be a nuance in their lives.

Anyway, I am still alive. Counting days and wondering if I will be able to mark another day in my calender as a day I lived, is a humorous misapplication with life. My living is an occurrence of sufficient roles and their alternatives. If I had to play by the norms they imposed…none of the characters would see the light of the day. And for that matter of fact, nobody would be able to blame me a suspect. But there are enuogh elbow room for everybody except me to impute that I am indeed the suspect. They suspect me for everything.

The notoriety of being a suspect has been multiplied by my consistent disbelief of me being a suspect.

I assume, I was mistakenly attributed a suspect.