11 Jan 2014

Gray Sunshine

The concrete under your feet and the coat-clad shoulders brushing against you, they form a sort of abyss which sends out numerous subtle invitations for people to take a couple more steps ahead and try to tap into the many threads of this pulsating society. Although many dream of combing through this web of lives that thrive all around us, only a few manage to reach their door-step without being tangled in these million cobwebs. The reason why the four walls of your room provide a sanctuary is because these threads are unable to break through the brick and mortar and you feel that you have safely shut the world outside. Solitude has become your refuge and silence is the new music that fills the void between one routine and the next.

It is half past nine and the night is busy ushering people towards their beds and bars. I can clearly spot Aria's silhouette from the distance of a couple of steps and it feels as if, with every passing moment, she is fading into the dark, shrinking further into the red jacket she wore, with her arms thrust deep into the pockets. The wind plays wildly with her hair and yet, surprisingly, she appears unaware. The single storied buildings around us are throwing ample light on the pavement. Under the yellow sheen, it feels as if we are walking on the sunshine, together, in a timeless space. The gray is our new gold and I feel an odd bond forming between the two of us tonight.

I am too lost in my thoughts to notice her stop and turn around to halt me in my tracks and place her inquiring gaze on me. I am at a loss of words to explain why I have retraced her each step and why I have been continuously doing it for months. I notice that her anger shields her fear and the blood is rushing to her face. Her lips and ears are shut alike against anything meaningful that I might say. But I dont say it. I give her a chance to find me in my silence and rub the dust off those words that I have repeated a thousand times in my head and yet, never uttered to anyone. I offer her voiceless words of a love that craves too much and is embarrassed by the same. I offer her my unbreakable silence which she might crack with her sweet voice. I offer her my unspoken dreams and truths and fears which I hide from everyone else.

And like all the times before, I watch her turn around and close my eyes to hear those distinct taps of her walking stick on the pavement. When I open them again, she has, expectedly, disappeared, perhaps her destination found her before my silence could.


Later that night, I sign my good night to my room-mate who eventually felt compelled to learn the only language that I can speak. He cares, but in a nonchalant way, being caught up in his own clusters of priorities. I, for one, have my own to sort.





P.S. - Another shot at prose. I posted this story a long time back on another blog but....well, nobody went there. So here it is. Now, be kind and give me some constructive criticism. ;)

10 comments:

  1. This is the kind of story that appeals to me - simple yet paints the picture of the scene in my mind's eye when I'm reading. And somehow, there is a touch of melancholy here that I didn't really expect.

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    1. Ah, so the element of surprise was preserved (yes?). Yay. Glad to hear that you liked it. Thanks. :)

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  2. You're always closest to yourself, that goes for everyone no matter what they will have you believe.

    /Avy

    http://mymotherfuckedmickjagger.blogspot.com

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    1. Agree. There's always that one person with whom you ditch all your masks; and that is your own personal self. You know what you are and where you stand, even if you don't like to admit it.

      Thank you for stopping by. :)

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  3. I love your blog
    followed
    http://minimaysi.blogspot.co.uk/

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  4. Beautiful piece.
    I don't really understand what draws the nexus, but only when there's gloom do we find the seeds of happiness.
    Take care.
    xx

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  5. An interesting piece that I enjoyed reading.

    Thank you. Love love, Andrew. Bye.

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Unless my thoughts fickle turned your brain into pickle, I'd love to hear if my words found your funny bone to tickle.

Or sparked a chain of thoughts. Even if they did not, do stop by and say "Hi!". That would mean a lot.