Culture

Few porcelain cups

Went back to its original states

Some herbal digestives melted

On the floor of rented luxury

The tenure ends

And we go back

On fighting for our original states

Priorities

Almost a week now, the solid pain in my chest is getting harder, it won’t go the tranquility told me so. But will not be soft anymore. There are moments when I let my brother down, unwillingly, there were moments I did it as I was a kid back then, but now, this now did I not know it will go like this? I did? Day one when it went bad, I cried like hell, for desire took troll and I couldn’t visit the place of my brothers rest. I knew my brother wasn’t there, but his emptiness.

Day two when things went wrong and Already decided I won’t ever go there, as people won’t understand, people wont listen to it, the tightness inside my heart, they won’t know the loss of home, they won’t know the lose of love, for love is different for humans, and love, for us was beyond place and existence. For my brother, he is keeping me alive, and he will call me one day, and I won’t leave a single thing behind.

I think I tried hard enough, not to cry, not to brag, the little walk I had, away from humans of tomorrow, I came back of their wordly worries, I might be lost, or the noodles were getting cold. Who knows. I think I sat there for half an hour when I wanted to run away, look for my brother, or just go home, or just kill my self, cry out loud. I didn’t.

As it would be over dramatic for them.

It was already.

Seven days later after wasting my one single holiday per week, I learned it in a hard way, waiting for them, for half an hours for a smoke, it was already a overdramatised act for them.

My brother, the lump in my throat, I wanted to say something. But before I could my week off was over as the five min smoke was over, and they head back to their safe haven.

I stayed, with the punch breaking my bones never can be fixed for it was me, who let my brother down. I stayed alone, for rest of days, for this week, unable to say anything or do, just hugging my brothers picture and crying. Finally reaching out for words, an eulogy to humans I gave priorities, a good bye to those plastic happy moments I have shared, as they would not know I was never happy.

As no one will know or I have to let them know, how much we did love each other, me and my brother. For that’s okay, that the lump stayed. My brother stayed.

And so did Khoka, he came as I stepped out from the place I never belonged, he stayed and asked all, never mocking the death of my brother.

– death, death of priorities were necessary.

How much does it cost

Things we don’t want to ask is the thing we are afraid to know.

Like yesterday, after taking the auto when I realised I forgot to ask where will it go, I didn’t wanna know.

The plenty of time I had the opportunity to ask for the next 20min,

I am not afraid of the destination wherever it may take me, but the possibilities of answer plays like the cosmic inferno and I am running out air to breathe.

Sometimes it’s worse. Sometimes the whole world turns upside down, sometimes loved ones walk away, silence fall and I never ask why. sometimes eyes speak and I am afraid to know what did it say. Sometimes happiness fades away, hope dies, I sink more and more. The rift widens in between us, we go miles away.

Misunderstood.

I think we all are. Afraid of those paperless paper cuts. Some no’s some can’t’s, I have said good bye to us.

And all those whys I will never ask, hiding safely under the intellectual posh quilt of a word call introvert.

Sometimes like yesterday, I will reach where I was suppose to, those unnecessary questions for unnecessary possessions, “how much does it cost?”

-questions, like “dada etar koto daam?”

Non fiction

When I was walking, alone with the last light of the day. And looked at the sky, toward the tired sinking sun, or towards some fading illumination, I realised what was wrong with me. The sun and I seem very similar from there, tired, cornered, and yet, we both wanted to sink and dissolve in the darkness more and more.

You know, when you are happy, people loves you, people love your smile, your amusing, bright, glowing eyes, face. Your warmth. And when you are sad, miserable, frightened, people will have their own parsonal opinion about you, that, “you have changed”. Why couldn’t they tried considering that was a part of you?

And it happened with Me. All the time, dealing with my pain, my agony alone, so alone that no one even know the burn. Tried easing my pain so badly, that now I am a funny cheery person to all, no one will ever and no one ever did turn back to see me. Neither did I. How could I? I needed to be happy, desperately happy.

They say, he is Morningstar, Lucifer Morningstar. I looked at the setting sun. Is it him? Star of the morning? Yes of course he is. And he burns. The bringer of the light. I wonder, what would happen if he ever stop burning. The morning would never come. And no one will call him a Morningstar. So the hell is the sun?

After a few minutes, it was dark. The time of faith and fear at last arrived, and I had to get back home, I just liked it this way, liked the darkness after light, like I was at heaven, and there was no clash between heaven and hell there, they stood side by side, like our so called contradictory nature of being happy and sad. And I realised, both are so pretty, and yet, we choose to understand the happiness, we don’t even need much word to describe it. But we don’t try, literally deny trying understand the beauty of the sadness. What we feel, why we feel, those lost people, and blunders, those mistakes, pain, if we could understand, and accept as a part of our normal unchanged sane personality. And we could cry together, like we laughed together. We didn’t need to feel so alone. We didn’t need to wait for the morning to come and make us busy from thoughts or for nights to dream happy eyes closed.

For the time being, now, right now, I am not happy, I am sad, and it’s so beautifully creating this delirious pattern, and colourful image, For now I just want to be cornered and see the whole room from there and it’s better visible. 

I don’t want to tell what happened, or I may never tell. It doesn’t matter if it’s dark or full of lights.
The colours of everything will remain same.