In Heaven We Find Ourselves

In Heaven We Find Ourselves
My palpitating heart speaks louder than any number of words articulated through a loudspeaker every time she is near me. There is something special about her; I have known this all along. I wish I knew what it is, but I gave up trying to figure it out a long time back. I simply enjoy the magic that works itself on me while she is with me. I lose all my senses, there is only her benign presence beside me. Somehow, she pushes a lot more oxygen into my lungs every time I inhale. It is to stay in my lungs for a long time, and is destined to create a havoc while it flows through my body with the blood cells. There is to be a brutal mayhem as my blood cells compete for more and more of her presence, but it is to be a lot less vicious than the drama staged in my heart while she sits with me.

I wish I could make her realise how special she is for me; she makes me feel different and wanted. I feel on top of Everest, or even at a higher point, if one is possible. I feel atop a rocket destined to touch the moon and even one of the stars it borrows its values from while she is with me. She inches closer to me, probably to show me she too loves me, and I feel really honoured by the gesture. I have always wanted to be on the moon; my dream-destination inches a bit closer to me while she inches closer to me. She is the ultimate destination I have always wanted to be at.

For a while, I pause to wonder if I have reached where I always wanted to be.  I have always wanted to be in a world where there isn’t even a slight hint of grief. The present situation is only a temporary break in the onslaught of adversities, I know. The incessant shower of grief makes me wish to be in a place where happiness reigns over everyone and there isn’t a hint of sorrow. I wonder if her company is capable of pushing all of my grief in a corner like an equestrian pushes infantry it encounters in a battle-field. I know this is a hypothetical case, but this is how I feel when I am with her. I wonder if I get a wrong feeling. She doesn’t seem to harbour a similar feeling for me while we are together. Apparently, there is something wrong with my receptors.

I don’t think I want to get my receptors rectified. I find myself in an idealised world while she is with me. I don’t think I would ever like to leave a world that has me and she in it. This is better than being in paradise, although I don’t know what being in paradise is like. There are tons of happiness and excitement to be discovered here, I don’t want any more of them. But at the same time, I also feel I shouldn’t be here at all.

 There is nothing wrong in being here, but I’m not habituated to so much of happiness and excitement. There have always been a lot of aeons of happiness to be discovered, but this time, there seems to be a shower of it. It makes me jump up with joy. Too much of these can prove to be detrimental to my being, I know; moreover, I feel scared and terrified at the thought of whatever that shall be before me when this idealised world  I find myself in vanishes into the ether.

It is to wither away one day, I know. I shall be left with a few pieces of a bitter reality; it is not going to taste very good, but I shall have to put up with it for a longer time than I ever thought. It is going to spoil the flavour of everything I eat and drink. My rumblings in an idealised world shall be insignificant at that time, I know.

Her presence  beside me today is stronger than a tryst I once made with myself. I pledged to be happy and happier than anyone else in this world. She reminds me of the pledge again and again every time she is with me. I begin to wish for more and more happiness and satisfaction. A typical satisfaction runs through me as I realise I am working for it while she is with me today. In a small way, I know I am also propelling similar values of happiness through her with every fraction of time I spend with her.

There has to be a way to say how much she means to me. Words are simply not sufficient to say all of it in. A catharsis runs through both of us when I hold her hand today. My fingers dig into her palms for a tighter grip over a dream I know won’t leave me as long as I keep up my grip. She will be with me for a longer time  today. For me, she is like a lifeboat a sailor discovers while he is sinking into the depths of an ocean. My fingers dig harder into her fingers for a tighter grip.

I feel sure it makes her feel special and wanted too, although I don’t know who gains the most. She is a strong contender in the race, I tighten my grip and my message is reinforced. She made some coy moves as if to avoid me, but I know more than the obvious. The very next moment, I held her tightly in my arms till every nerve of our bodies was in contact with each other.

She writhed with pleasure, twisted and turned, but eventually, she gave up her pretensions and ended up kissing me again and again. Both of us panted for breath even as our hearts worked harder in those moments to push us into heaven.

Smoking A Past Or A Future

Smoking A Past Or A Future?
I saw him smoking a  cigarette, there were clouds of smoke emanating from his mouth. It was like he was kissing goodbye to all that had happened in his past with every puff of smoke he exhaled from his mouth. Every puff of smoke that came out of his mouth signified a major problem which dominated his life at a particular point of time. Their domination crushed all his confidence, but he felt victorious over them when he saw them being exhaled as smoke.

Several puffs of smoke came out of his mouth, he must have felt a lot relieved at a whole lot of his problems coming out and leaving him. It must have been something like the relief one feels after a prolonged bout of constipation. There was still a lot waiting to leave, but quite a bit had already found an exhaust. None of it was ever going to be back again in its original form; this was what delighted him.

He curled up his outputs in the form of rings of smoke and there were several other shapes and sizes of smoke to be seen. Their very variety reminded me of the variety of problems in my life. There were different problems at all different stages of my life, there still were quite a lot hovering over my present. Typically, all of them had had different and unique solutions. I did wonder if his problems were as numerous as compared to mine or were mine present in some shapes and sizes different from the ones he had his problems.

 Quite soon, the entire room began to get stuffy and stifling. Apparently, he had faced a whole lot of problems. With quite a bit of stress gone, and quite a bit waiting for an exit, there was a faint sign of satisfaction on his face. It wasn’t long before a whole lot of smoke was to be seen in the room, and it created a black aura in the room.

I thought of opening one of the windows to vent out at least  some of the smoke, but all windows were jammed and locked; none could be opened. I was going to have to put up with a medley of smoke and grime created by his problems for a long time. Anyway, what mattered was that he was a happier man with a few of his problems swirling around as smoke now.

I felt bad about there being so many problems in his life, but I too had to suffer because someone else had sinned and not repented. I was a passive-smoker. I wish he had repented and got at least some of his sins pardoned; the atmosphere in the room wouldn’t have been as stifling. But as it is, he didn’t. his sins were quite grave and serious, several of them were beyond the point of being pardoned even by a Heavenly Body. I wonder if he realised the gravity of his actions; they have repercussions on those not related to him.

Gradually, the room was full of smoke, but it didn’t seem to have any effect on him. All of what was to be found in the room was only a minor reflection of his sins, but none of them were able to affect him in any manner. I was a bit surprised when I realised this, but apparently, he had developed an immunity against all of it over several years of his existence. I wish I could point out that it needed to be extended to others too.

A stronger and more potent wand was required move him; none of the smoke in the room was going to be enough to crush his confidence. The hand that held that wand must be strong enough, the wizard who muttered the magic spell must be stronger than everything else. The spell must be potent enough.

Such a spell had become the need of the hour because he needed to be made aware of the repercussions of his deeds. People in the room were suffering because of the presence of smoke, and their sufferings had to be atoned. This had to be done at the earliest because smoke was creating ruffles in their hearts before thrashing their buttocks.

For a while, I wished I could also kiss goodbye to all my past in a similar manner. I don’t think this is going to serve any purpose now considering the huge amount of time that has elapsed since he sinned. He has almost forgotten his sins and probably attributes them to others. On the other hand, there has been so much angst and apprehension regarding my past that I have begun to feel sick of it. I simply can’t forget any of it.

But it is only my past that  I can be sure of. There is nothing in my future that stands as clear as my past. I can see it as clear as my hands, but I simply cannot affiliate with my future. It has to be something to do with my past. My future is an entity I can’t see as clearly as I can see my past. There are all kinds of characters and figures running around in my past, and I know almost all of them, although I don’t like all of them.

Even if I create an affinity with elements of my past, they are not going to be with me for a long time. They are going to shift further behind with the aeons of time lying in between different stages of my past. I need to create an affinity with something more stable and static, my future and my present. They are going to be with me for  a long time and remain with me for a longer time. The only problem is that my present and future don’t contain anything exciting for me. All excitement is contained in my past. These are the only elements I can easily affiliate with.

Painting Portraits With Whispers

Painting Portraits With Whispers
After all these years, I can still feel her breaths whispering secrets of her era  into my ears. I gladly gave an ear to her secrets whenever she had any to share. I had quite a lot of them concealed within myself too, but I wasn’t as articulate as she was. They were dreams she had seen once upon a time with her eyes closed.

She wanted to chase them like a wild bull chases a matador in an arena. It was going to be a long and hard chase, she knew, but then, everything in her life had been tough. Echoes of bells her dreams chimed within me at that time can be heard to this day, although they are not as shrill today. I did wonder if they created similar ruptures within her being too. There was a typical joy bouncing within me whenever her secrets echoed around my being, and they did so for quite a long time.

I haven’t shared them with anyone, I never shall. I feel so honoured when I realise the merit she attributed to me by confiding them in me. She left some invisible but strong marks of her presence on my subconscious mind to remind me of her absent form even today. Although they have begun to fade with time, quite a few of them shall remain with me in a prominent form for a long time.

I hate to remind myself from time to time that she was only a short chapter in the book of my life. The chapter is now over, and I have been reading another  one since I opened my eyes this morning, but I simply cannot forget everything about. She was a chapter that defined my entire book. My entire life was summarised by her. A whole lot of chapters remain unread and unexplored, a lot of secrets remain to be whispered into my ears, but life has changed. The chapter is closed, and is never to be opened ever again.

 I felt honoured when I realise she was on the verge of sharing at least some classified information her eyes had discovered. They had concealed all of it within them from everyone  around her while she lowered her gaze while with the diaspora. Her eyes were one of the points where the whole world converged and created a whole new world. I began to wonder if her eyes drew a similar interpretation of all chapters of her life I had browsed through. It is very important for both of us to look out of a window and see the same picture whenever we look out.

The sea of life has often taken an active shape within her while she remained away from me, and she had flowed on with it over time. she has found him on a shore he had drifted to on a raft.  They found themselves in a situation similar to what Adam and Eve must have been in in the Garden of Eden. Adam didn’t have a companion except Eve, and they fell in love with each other by default. Eve was beautiful, Adam never doubted it.

She had been told she was beautiful about a thousand times. I had articulated a few words signifying the message about a thousand times, and so had he. She had become so used to being beautiful that she had forgotten what an honour she was bestowing on everyone around her by casting even a slight look. For a moment, she wondered if he considered himself honoured by her presence, or did he consider it to be a favour bestowed upon her. It is irrelevant. What mattered was that they loved each other.

I didn’t figure anywhere in the picture now, although I badly wish I could repaint the picture with some special paints I borrow from a different world. On second thoughts, even if I am able to paint the picture in different colours, none of them are ever going to consent with any of the colours of my life. The picture of life she has painted for herself has been quite different and quite good.

It doesn’t have me in it. It shouldn’t.

When Magic Happens

When Magic Happens
Magic begins where logic ends; I have been standing on a point where one blends into the other. Practically, I have been waiting for a long time for logical reasoning to end, love to happen and work its magic on me. it is quite a          silly proposition, but it seems to be quite a long time since I have been waiting, and I appear a fool now. A pessimist might say love is never to happen with me, but I shall never give up hope.

Time had given me a whole lot of wounds and bruises, and several of them have been quite obnoxious; they have been quite painful, and it is a long time since they were healed-up and taken care of. I feel quite bad about them when I realise there can never be a permanent remedy for my bruises and injuries.

 They will remain a part of me as long as I live, and ultimately, I’ll accept them as a part of my life. They did cause a certain amount of pain when they were inflicted, and their scars shall always be a gruesome reminder of this pain. This pain shall make all atrocities life is to inflict on me in the days to come appear to be puny and insignificant.

Somehow, I know the days to come are going to be worse than all that I have already been through; life isn’t going to be easy for me; never. A complete comprehension of this simple truth of life should dawn upon me in a few days, otherwise they are going to hover over my future and make it quite unbearable for me.

I shall have to bear through my future with all kinds of injuries over myself, but I’ll have to make sure I don’t make a display of any negative trait within me; I know a display of my negative feelings can be quite detrimental to my well-being, I should always put up a positive outlook. It is a long time since I stopped trying to anesthetise my bruises in public. All the same, I strongly feel fate should now loosen all knots it had tied over me and my future.  There is a lot of pressure to be released, and it should be released now.

I wandered along a completely new track for a long time in the hope of at least some pressure being released; it was completely a new situation for me, I felt like an overblown-balloon on the verge of exploding for a long time; the novelty of the experience struck me worse than a bolt of lightning could, but it has gradually become a part of my life. I fail to understand how this could happen with me, but I have come to  accept a dissonance as a normal part of my life.

I find myself struggling to keep walking in a straight direction despite all efforts made by  my fate to deflect me from my chosen path. I strongly feel this is the only way to get to my goal, although everyone else seems to be already at their chosen destination after walking on a different track.

The winner of the conflict between me and my fate decides the direction of my walk, but I always find myself stronger of the two on most occasions. Of course, there are certain moments when my opponents manage to win the race, but I make sure it is always a tough game for them.

I often wonder if this cat-and-mouse game is going to end anytime soon. A voice from within says this game is the very essence of life. It is never going to end. It is to be carried on by my next generation, and even the next. I shall have to learn to put up with whatever values the race throws in for me if I want to live happily.

I strongly feel it is a long time since I and my fate parted ways. There is very little I can do but wait for a quick termination of my trials. I hope they end soon.