To
be or not to be..
Again I aimlessly feel the sudden shudder under my fingers as I go through the old photographs of my touch screen cell phone. I was perhaps waiting for the changed tune to awaken my senses as I matched my heart beats with the dying droplets of the leaking tap. The very familiar sound of the moving fan above us reminded me of its existence as the electricity in the neighbourhood came back. I looked out of my window as a string of golden street lights seemed to crown the roads of this sleeping city. The blurry golden glow could be easily mistaken for the Vanaras Ghat. The old grandfather clock seemed to laugh at me. His wise stare and his constant reminder of these fleeting moments stifled me. It seemed as if he was laughing at my decay, laughing at stillness of the tide. What if he had feelings? Does he have feelings?
Again I aimlessly feel the sudden shudder under my fingers as I go through the old photographs of my touch screen cell phone. I was perhaps waiting for the changed tune to awaken my senses as I matched my heart beats with the dying droplets of the leaking tap. The very familiar sound of the moving fan above us reminded me of its existence as the electricity in the neighbourhood came back. I looked out of my window as a string of golden street lights seemed to crown the roads of this sleeping city. The blurry golden glow could be easily mistaken for the Vanaras Ghat. The old grandfather clock seemed to laugh at me. His wise stare and his constant reminder of these fleeting moments stifled me. It seemed as if he was laughing at my decay, laughing at stillness of the tide. What if he had feelings? Does he have feelings?
The
rustling sound of the bed sheet reminded me of the existence of another person
in my room. A human being with a heart. A heart colder than the winter frost.
Like a five year old I tried closing my heart from the world, simply by closing my eyes. Pretention is solitude. I felt the darkness engulfing the known strings. I gasped in desperation to hang on to the tune of my city. To the song of my love.
Voices and vices of known faces led to forgotten and forgiven feelings. And I waited.. Waited with my grandfather clock.. Waited for the fog to turn down into dew.
Like a five year old I tried closing my heart from the world, simply by closing my eyes. Pretention is solitude. I felt the darkness engulfing the known strings. I gasped in desperation to hang on to the tune of my city. To the song of my love.
Voices and vices of known faces led to forgotten and forgiven feelings. And I waited.. Waited with my grandfather clock.. Waited for the fog to turn down into dew.
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