It has got to End

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It has got to End

"You wannit?"
"No"
"Are you sure?"
"Yes"
"Maybe if you wannit, I can give it to you for half the price"
"Why?"
"Because I like you. And you wannit, innit?"
"No"
"You keep sayin' that"
"Yes"
"Keep it"
"No"
"Ok. I will take leave"
"Ok"
"Damnit woman! Take it!"
"No"
"Fine. Suits you. I am goin'"
"Good bye"
"Good bye, missus"

And now he is gone. And gone are those days when I needed him. When I wanted him to give me what he always carried somewhere hidden in his person. It required an immense amount of fixity to say that one syllable--'No'

What music is to a musician, beats to a dancer, words to a writer, prayer to a dying man, urgency to a doctor, hands to a worker, child to a mother and god to a human; drug is to me.
It makes me high. It makes me want to do things I know I wouldn't if it were not for the ecstatic feeling. The feeling of soaring, the feeling of life, the adamant nature to let go that I annex.

They told me to drop it.
Did i?
No.
They told me it would kill me.
Did it?
No.
They told me they would leave me if I don't leave it.
Did they?
No.
Did I?
No.

So then what made me give it up?
Nothing. Yesterday I needed the euphoria to chase away the insomnia.
Today, I understand that happiness and euphoria are two different words with two different meanings. Oh yes, you will find them to be synonyms of each other in the dictionary. But those people who have penned down these words together in the same line, and have uttered them in the same breath, have not tasted what I have.
I have tasted death. I have tasted death in the form of life, in the form of ebullience.

They say its not healthy.
I say it is, as long as you want to come across your succubus.
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DISCLAIMER: The aforementioned dialogue writing is a work of pure fiction.

~~The Girl.

Oneness

Just a little something, an attempt.
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                                                                                Oneness


When she spoke, her words flowed and mingled with those of his. They shared one laughter and that outlived all the smiles they showered on the banal beings. In the mirror he saw his face, in her eyes he caught his self.  When her fingers entwined with those of his, they became whole. When they clashed, it thundered but also rained, flooding them with relief such that knew no bounds. When they walked, their marks left behind on the desert sand of squalor overlapped. When they hugged, they merged in a single umbra. When they closed their eyes, however different their dreams might be, they always witnessed each other in them, thus ending the reveries with the same conclusion. Her tears found place in his eyes. his pain housed in her heart. When they kissed, the meeting of the lips went unheeded and the whispering of the eyelashes consumed them. Her head rested on his shoulder and his laid on her lap. They loved others and hence deified each other. They lived, for they were alive in the true sense of the meaning.
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~~The Girl

The Fall from the Sky.

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                                                             The Fall from the Sky

"There, Dad! Look! There!"
The little girl took her father's large hand in her soft, pudgy one and tugged at him. The father, though tired from the late night work turned toward her little darling and smiled. She was innocent and knew nothing save one thing...her mother was alive among the stars.
"Yes, honey. I saw her"
"Didn't she look pretty, Dad? Didn't she look pretty?"
Yes. Her mother had always looked beautiful. Sadly enough, the little offspring of his inherited his rough features. She was petite, yes. But had a crooked nose and bushy eyebrows. All this suited on him, but they didn't compliment the girl's face.
"Dad? Dad!"
The sudden sweet voice jolted him back to the reality. He looked at her once again and loved her for all she was.
"Yes, sugar?"
"Dad, someone told me that those stars are shooting stars and not Mum"
"Who? Who said that?"
"A friend. She was lying, wasn't she, Dad?"
There was a long pause. By the time he could think of an answer, the girl's blue eyes were filled with droplets of tears, as if collected from a vast ocean.
"I am sorry, sweetheart. But its true. Those stars are just shooting stars. When they get tired and old, they fall. The young and bright ones stay up holding on to the sky"
"So where is my Mum?", she asked in a small voice.
"She is with us. She is here somewhere and she doesn't like those bad tears in your eyes. So be quick and wipe them off your lovely face!"
The girl, knowing her father was not exactly telling the truth nevertheless dried her tears. She smiled her smile she kept only for those moments when they discussed her mother's memories.
"But those stars will keep falling, Dad? Will I get to see them every night? But I don't want them to grow old, Dad! I don't like it"
"There is nothing you can do, my love. They are born and they shine. But slowly they lose their brightness and need to fall. Because if they don't, there won't be any space left for the new stars to come. Do you get what I mean, munchkin?"
The girl nodded in solemnness. She had never witnessed death and was scared of the notion. Her father clearly remembered that night when he had felt the life seeping into the girl's limp body and slipping out of his wife's bloodied one.
"I love you, Dad. Please don't grow old and fall", the girl's voice shook
"I love you too, Vida. Lets go inside"
He pocketed his cancer medicines and they both headed for the front door, hand in hand.
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~~The Girl.

Crushes and Break Ups.

I have friends who crib about break ups. But aren't break ups a part of life? The normal teenage hood consists of first crush, first kiss, the first time you actually blush around someone you like, and so on. Thats the beauty in the innocence of the whole thing. Everything you did, gave you such simple happiness.

I remember the first guy I 'fell for'. I gave him my best eraser, just like that. And errr...no, he didn't give me anything in return. And yes, the next day I took my eraser back...without telling him! I recall being angry then, and promising myself never to like any other guy ever. But did I keep that promise? Hell, no! And now, I laugh at that old, or rather the young girl who so easily gave up on "love".

I understand now that these silly crushes are important, they teach you how to fall and then get up, cry a bit and then move on. Thats how it is and will remain until you come across that one person you know you'd want to "spend the rest of your life with" (Then again, even that doesn't mean "happily ever after")

But there are some people of my age as well as older at times who need to understand this. The moment you get in a relationship, you need to remember that at some point this would end, but you don't have to dwell on that faraway day every second. Enjoy it while the relationship lasts. When it does end, cry, be depressed and then smile and accept it. The decision to be in the relationship was not wrong, just the person you chose to be in it with was for you. And, hey! Who cares, just as long as you had fun? You got your fair share of smiles as well as your fair share of pain. It is as simple as that.

After all---
If it were meant to be easy, they wouldn't have called it "crush" ;)

~~The Girl.

A dancer that she was.

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A dancer that she was
She was restless. Her feet wanted to move and toes wanted to wriggle around on beats. Her hands and fingers took forms of their own and her gestures automatically turned elegant. She didn't have to worry about her posture. It was perfect. But then again, everything about her was. The curve of her waist was that of a flower vase, carefully designed.                                                                                   

Her supple calves were rounded with the strength that of a woman. Her neck was long and shoulders straight. Her long dark hair rolled and draped with a simple white cloth. Her dress flowed with her. When she swirled, the earth paused. When she lifted her leg, her body turned into that of a swan. When she raised her hands high above, she resembled an opulent statue, carefully taking birth under the hands of a sculptor. 

The joyful steps came to her. Her body moved at its own will. Her mind surrendered and she became a slave to the unheard music.

She was deaf. She was a dancer.
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~~The Girl.