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White Wish

You remember I called you an 'angel' in a coupla poems I wrote for you? I asked Donna. Yes, she said, quietly. And then, a very long pause ensued.

Donna and I have been friends since forever. It is amazing how the word bliss defines itself when I talk to her. I used to transform that same bliss in to words; words that defied happiness. The list of poems/essays continued to count up to the uncountable. The list meant sanctification and satisfaction that came via that bond. But just when the bond began to boast of how eternal it could be, eternal met a tear-block. Donna announced her departure from the present. The Reason just puffed off the mind, hazed the heart and left me to decide if the teardrops were happy or sad. Did my list of poems begin to choke? I thought, tears hitting my cheek like bullets.

As we sat together under the tree, where we first met, she broke the long pause by placing a white sheet of paper in my hand, which read 101. She was gone long before I cracked the code.

Having retired to bed, I turned to poem#101 in my diary: 

What's angel's colour?

That binds us forever.

Eyes yearn for that pleasure.

I'd shed Red to treasure.

With Donna gone, I had to be content with images of her in a white attire. 

Quite Simply

In-gradient

I was standing near a gate, waiting for a friend, lost in thought. That was when a gatekeeper requested me to unblock the gate's way to the lock. I was lost. His words for the first time never seemed to reach my ear. Even his second attempt to move me out of that place had failed when he came over to gently pat me on my back and said Sir, I need to close this gate. We are past our working hours and now you are just adding to the delay. I replied saying Oh. But tell me this....

I asked him You work here right? Now, let's say you go home and your wife says 'I am willing to give up the best thing I have to make you happy. ' And let me tell you, she means it. Now, you have the chance to go and get your best thing at the expense of her's. There are no other alternatives. What do you do? A similar situation you would have come across in...say....thirty thirty-five years..ever?...never?

The keeper said Look young man. I am fifty and your thirty-guess did cheer me up. Thanks. He said with a smile and continued In my thirty years of work as a Concierge, janitor or a gatekeeper, I have seen people walk through a gate either leaving their troubles behind or considering themselves a tad bit heavier with troubles. Some treat the insides as a prison and some treat the insides as heaven. Same applies to the outsides. There could be a unique explanation behind each of those feelings.  For example, I would deny my wife's offer to let her best thing go, to invite mine. Burdening yourself sometimes lightens that very feeling. So a prison or heaven, insides or outsides is so much on the individual. That would explain the insides-outsides parallel or equilibrium. He stopped there and smiled at me. And then he said May I ask the reason behind your question? I do hope that this long version of my answer helped you a bit. For you to quickly decide to move from here (he said pointing to the railing) so that this gate closes, for me and for the answer you seek. I replied I am just deciding what the inside situation and the outside situation are in my case! Thanks though.



I stepped aside and continued my wait for my friend whom I would be meeting for the last time.

Unstepped

That Recluse Step

I often wonder the steps that I take to reach no place, the steps that I take for the troubled mind to come back to a state of rest, are the ones that almost always end in physical pain. What is advantage of living in a city when the advantage rots the mind? I could just wish for that one step that takes me to a place called peace.


I play a game of probability and I ask myself What is today going to be like? Smile or Snivel? the odds are even. And at the end of the day I realize, I haven't played a game. I was merely played by the daily dice of life, the thought arising from an actively sane mind. It is from the latter [the whining that comes from the proceedings of the day] that troubles begin to swell. It is then that a much needed walk is called for. Out comes desperation to silence the madness. For some, a walk would do.

I walked towards a tunnel that took me no where. Literally. It was pitch dark and I had no clue why I walked towards the unknown. It symbolized the state of mind - I don't need to go anywhere. I just need to take those few steps away from the 'sin' city to reach the mental state of silence. Barely in to the walk, I got blinded by a light. It was the moment of loss; a step further would have landed me in the abyss that was staring at me from toe to face.

I weighed the probability against the quest to seek moments of peace. I failed to investigate the source of that light. For all it meant, the step would have sealed fate. The abyss could well have been a cluse.

That one reclusive step, unlike the one from the tunnel, is still being searched for. For the walk to sport a destination while all the other questions are put to rest.

[cluse = a narrow valley]