A Conspiracy Of Stars And Planets
To end life is a permanent means to a temporary end. But to seek love and establish connect is a beautiful thing to do. Delve into this story for the flowers bloom every spring.
“And we meet again…” - Most of the regulars visited the tea stall. Each with a different purpose, but with the characteristic effluent scent of directionless. They gather to play cards and pour their hearts out. In hopes of a better political environment, or maybe their immediate local habitus.
From the muffled riot of laughter and heated debate, of base market transactions and blurry traffic noises, a captivating spell emerged and perforated my ears. From the trunk of common cob-web adorned memories, buried deep in my cognition, suddenly a glitter emerged. I threw the earthen cup of tea aside. The murky silence was broken, and the formless abomination of my past lover now commanded from me, the life essence. The spirit of destitute loneliness had now tailed me to this obsolete corner.
I looked back in awe and curiosity, towards the source. The voice that I once adorned. One that used to impart a rosy hue to the lens of my conscience. All common things, boring everyday things, periodic rotting things, diffused into a huge lonely void, a deep dark silence of sorts. And my stagnant mind at once rushed to seek an audience with the familiar voice, which had shown the gushing blood - a newfound fire. I inched towards the harsh, unwelcoming, rugged road, like a child preying on butterflies in a garden, like the spirit of night swooning down unto light. And her sticky viscous entity, like adhesive, loomed over me.
Her memories descended from the heavenly abode of my mind, to escort me to the river beyond. I cast one look beyond, one look at all the people, like lifeless frames. I take one look at the hopeless romantics, in search of a remedy to their pain. I look at the people, who have refused to walk down that lane. One last time, I lived the narrow roads never taken in fear or doubt, and with one look at the shops I was a frequent wayfarer.
Her facade was here, to guide me into eternal rest and to cross the river of time. And I was willing to leave the mortal realm behind for her harrowing memories of deceit pushed me to the edge. I braced myself for the unforgiving force of the naked traffic. The messenger of death chuckled to himself, mocked the lover in motley, and went on his way.
But from the crowd an arm emerged, and snatched me from the lap of disaster and the trams angrily halted, hurled abuses and passed. And angry as I was, for it delayed my pain. Have you ever wandered like a nomad in this vast desert of loneliness, in desperate search for solace? Have you ever yearned so strongly for affection, for validation and to garner those kind looks? But, the angel of life bestowed me with a second chance at life. For love is not a destination, but a journey with many stoppages. A fearless journey for life, with a multitude of mysteries and rewards.
Looking back, I wait to thank that lady who saved me, every now and then. With eyes paralleling the comfort of home, she looked up in a fit of rage and chided me most gracefully on that day. I heard only mellow tunes in the background. Looking down in shame, with a smile flitted across my face. I have brushed aside my past shadowy self, and am ready to take a dip into the lively youthful river again. The spell of conclusion has deflected from the periphery of my expanse.
I plan to meet her again, and ask, “And we meet again...". With a light smile, she responds. And towards the library we walk, talking about life, love and fate. Each end bears the brave seed of new beginnings, and love is to commit and fall into it again and again.
~Divyosmi Goswami
