disturbed

I saw a couple of birds frolicking around in the shade tonight. It reminded me of you. They had a sense of carelessness which you used to make of as your own. The only concern for them in the whole wide world was fighting over a thing which looked like cross between a worm and a grain. They had their little beaks and kept pecking the other and when they got tired of it, they started pecking themselves. I tried to find a meaning in that, but just couldn’t. Maybe that is one of the issues I have, trying to find meanings in everything. Even when there isn’t any. Especially, when there isn’t any.

I asked the wind to carry a message to you, keep it floating around till the cold breeze whispers it softly to your ears. I hoped you would feel warm, but the wind somehow never delivered. Maybe the rain killed it off. Or. Maybe you are someone who doesn’t like to listen to what the wind says. It’s a pity I never asked you that. But again, I didn’t ask you a lot of things which I could have, did I?
Talking of rain, it has been raining continuously for some days now. When I was a kid, I used to believe rain was the tears of a wizard. I was crushed when they taught me about science. It destroyed the fantasy world I had created for myself. In my mind, I was the hero who could fight the wizard someday. I had cried bitter tears when I got to know it can never happen. I still do cry sometimes. But tears are like boners, you have to hide them. Else you appear vulnerable. Seldom, you think you can ever find someone in front of whom you can cry without feeling scared. I have always been a shoulder people look for to cry on, and I am proud of that. But the only shoulder I can cry on is yours. I guess I realized it way too late. I guess I was late for a lot of things.

I have a disturbed mind. I think you know that too. The arrow of eccentricity is gladly tilted a little bit wee on my side, else people would have termed me senile the moment they laid their eyes on me. I can never open up, talk about the things and the visions which keep cropping up in my head. I can never be myself and it kills me inside, but I guess that’s the price you pay for being a little different. But again, the only person I opened myself to was you.

Every single night reminds me of the one with you. It was magical, wasn’t it? Only us, together, in the whole wide world. And nothing else mattered. The night came on, it was heavenly calm, and we wanted the night to go on and on. But you said to return to the world.

It was monsoon when we first met – you are in the element of water. The fireplace had crackled a lot that night, you are in the element of fire. I keep talking to the wind. You are bloody associated with everything. You have always been there whenever I close my eyes, now I see you with them open and it’s frightening. I cannot promise for how long I can keep up with this. It’s maddening. The arrow is gradually shifting on the darker side.

Come. Come already. Or tell me that you won’t. And I’ll again be the crazy old guy who falls in love every monsoon.

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