Even though it was raining and mother earth had soaked in enough moisture to bring down the mercury, his room still needed air conditioning. Maybe it was the faulty vent, or maybe his radiating body…. it was hard to tell. The lines between different realities were too blurred to make sense. But the skies had made it a point to cry instead of him if his own tears had become unfaithful to him. That was his solace. With each passing moment, it became quieter… and the more quieter it became, the more the silence screamed. Even the pin that fell had started to make its presence felt.
As he looked up, he saw his reflection in the broken glass pane of his book shelf. He kept reading his own reflections as he ruminated over the events of the past couple of days. In this moment of broken reflection, he saw what most others were already failing to see. He saw himself as the shattered pieces of glasses which hurt anybody that came in contact with him. He was broken into so many tiny and countless pieces, that he became a threat to his own empathizers. His pain had made him into a deep furnace that had nothing but molten heat within it, and he had learnt to feed it to keep it within himself, not knowing he was nurturing his Sultr within.
Emotions have a funny way of expression – they ride on highs and lows to extremities, and the ones who surf on these waves know it is the energy that drives as well as drowns them. When these people love, they love deeper, they love intense… and lifecycle is often shorter because they run out of it faster. It’s not that the love dies, but just like the batteries, it drains out quick and refuels even quicker. But during that refueling, the other emotions that had been storing up space, need to vent out to make space for the fresh love. This is often hard to explain to somebody you so deeply love. All they would see is Love at first, and then a wave of other emotions confuses them. Before the love is fueled again, they experience anger, temper, grief, empathy and regret in some form spilling out as love makes it way back. It’s hard to be with such people. The overflowing emotions may drive others insane – but this is where the true test of “Love” comes into picture. If they really love you and care about you, they know these variations… and the ones that stick around long enough either learn to control them or learn to live with them. In either case, these emotionally charged superhumans know – those hands are never to be let go. No matter what!
He stared long enough on that broken piece of glass to see what he had become. He had burnt all hands around him that came up to comfort him.. he had blisters all over his body but it was difficult to say whether it was self-inflicted or circumstantial. Just like the cracked pane – it was tough to distinguish the boundaries of what was real and what was fiction. His logic betrayed his heart… but that was something he never cared about in the first place. He, himself had betrayed logic far too many times to be unsure of whether Logic was out to seek revenge on him.
The rain outside had stopped, the dust had settled, and the leaves hung still dripping wet from the tears that the gloomy skies sprinkled over them. The earth soaked up the water, and the heat within was rising into the atmosphere, making it humid. As the dense cool air was crashing down on the surface; the lighter, warmer air was rising up making it visibly shimmering. Or was it? He felt a sensation in his eyes that probably led to the glittery visibility… or maybe it was just a sweat that rolled down to his eyelashes. The humidity was rising and it was difficult to tell…. The realities were blurred.
As the drop fell onto the white tiles below, the pearl was lost. He glanced through the floors but was glad he didn’t find it. He hated such pearls on her cheeks. He would not use a cloth on her face, instead.. he would keep wiping her cheeks and kissing it till she ran out of tears. He couldn’t be the one to give her those, even if the realities were blurred. He was the cushion where people found their comfort… he couldn’t have developed thorns just because he was battered. He wasn’t the same guy anymore. He closed his eyes and ran his fingers thorough his hair… it was something she used to do when he was not at ease. He remembered her childlike smile, her shriek laughter and her circular dance in excitement, the marrow eyes with her dimple on the right cheek… That innocence couldn’t have been lie. Something told him she had her own unwavering loyalty but reasons were failing him now. But even if they were, his rage had destroyed all habitation within sight. There wasn’t a flower whose fragrance could have instilled a new aroma in his life, no plant which could have inspired newness, and no air worth breathing as it was choking in his own toxic habitat. This rage within him would probably sooth in time.. the grief might always be there.. but he had lost within himself, something which he took the most pride in – His consistency to burn like a flame while passing on the light to others. Now, it was just the burns he shared in the darkness that loomed around. What a shame!
“Who I am will never be defined by how others treat me“.
He stood up and opened the shelf to pick up his pen and his diary. It was time to write again. He gave a thought to the title, and started scribbling –
“Love was…”
Realities were blurred and so was his vision. It was the time to take a progressive step towards a new life. He could visualize it leaving all behind and starting a fresh chapter in his life… If Only, Goodbyes were so easy. As that metaphorical feet with its brown boot took the first leap and landed the heel on the ground, the sole (soul) created a sound with echoed though the neural system of the infinite mind cosmos, and with it… propelled the white precious pearl wavering through the air in free-fall. The time stopped as it splashed right on the ink fading the word. His pupils dilated and followed the expanding circumference of that tear-drop taking along with it the bluish tinge of the ink as the tides splashing onto the shores. The word was almost non recognizable. He looked through the window and heard the leaves whistling, maybe the wind had arrived and it was drying up the gloom. He gave along hard look outside through is window, finally completing his title –
“Love was is my drug”….
Taamasya 