Tag: life

Come here, love, I have something to tell you. Ever so in life you wake up from waking up. A squirrel tautology in itself.

You remember a part of yours that had believed, you remember who you were once upon a time, standing in front of the Lecture annexe, decked up and with your heart beating faster at every moment as young love made its way into your life for the first time. You remember seeing a salvation in a person. You remember hastily building a shelter. You remember the promises you made with each breath you took, You remember how the world around you danced with the pitter-patter of the raindrops and the graceful leaves of autumn. You remember those roads that you took, the library that you felt belonged to only you, the corridor whereform you peeked every now and then as he took his little bicycle and waved at you while rushing to class. You remember the roadside stalls, the innocuous arguments, the infatuation of little kids together. You remember how you felt alive.

You remember the storm that came after. The little devil seeking its way out from the bushes into the little paradise you had built for each other, and how your shelter stood ahead of you as you believed in belief a little more.

And then you wake up. Paradise ceases to exist too soon in the world as polluted as ours, love. You remember the nights as the stroke of reality belittled your very self of existence. You remember as your sense of spirit was thwarted in the middle of the road next to the banyan tree. You remember how the winter arrived with every empty promise of its. You remember how a vulnerability was cut into pieces of putrid loathe and you continued failing your own self. You were young, my love. You were young to ken the dissimilitude of the seasons.

You sit up straight and start looking around seeking a familiarity. The dream has ended, my love. You will have to open the curtains today and perceive the polluted world. The devil is still here but the door? Of all the things you remember, do you remember that the door to the paradise was always yours to keep? You stand at the threshold of the door. You cannot bring the seasons back, my love. That is beyond sway. But don’t stand there resigned, my love. I have something to tell you that I have hidden from you for ages. I wanted to protect you, love, but you need this knowledge more so than ever today.

Look in here, love, yes, within you. That tiny devil slyly peeking through the Gulmohar tree stands there and you can show it the door. You could always show it the door and set yourself free, but you had to learn from its presence before you shunned it away.

Remember the shelter you dreamed of? This time, bring the trees to your house. Water them, and watch the beauties grow. Sit on the bed and sing a song, take the glasses out and pour the wine as you toast at the trees you’ve named by now. Remember the roads that you missed oh so delicately? There were two pairs of feet, and one belonged to you. Keep your share of the memories and pen them down in that novel you had always wanted to write. You have tried so hard, my love and I have seen you do it as I wilily held the secret from you.

An innocence lost is a curtain opened, a heart broken is a devil shown the door, a devil the two of you had fed for long, a pain felt is a maturation stolen. May, your shelter find a shelter of his own, in a world where the devil knows not exists, and may you finish that poem you have been writing for your self. May you find the strength to send the poem to the un-attained address some day and smile at the horizons before you reach for the door.