zinda1

He was on with his daily charade. Sitting in the park; a lighter in his hands. A click, he could see the flames. Another click and the lid went down to extinguish it all. With each click and a flame, he could see the past. With each movement from the hinges, the lid came down on his present. He wondered if he could change the mechanism to switch between the two. Make the burning flame his shining ray of the present. Bring a lid down to the flame which has already been taking the shape of something past.

The past held him. It was viscous, it was venom. He had learnt all he cared for from it, he wanted to let it go. He wished knowing that his past wasn’t his to own; it was the past of the whole world. The flames of the past burnt him a little every time it forced the lid down what could be called as the present. He was tired of getting burnt time and again.

The flame fought gallantly for a moment or two whenever the forces beyond its control forced themselves on it. The present had hopes from the past, and the past hoped to click with the present to shape future. Whenever he tried to make it happen, it burnt him some more.
Little children were always amused by his innocuous acts. They came to the park to play and there they could see him, trying fervently to tilt the balance between the two. The innocent creatures children are, never could they understand what he was trying to accomplish though. For all they knew, neither did he.

He could have been content with the fleeting present, and be glad he could survive the flames of the past. He could have been resigned to the fact that there was little he could have done to get the time he had now linger a little bit longer. He could have been and done a lot of things but could have they changed anything?

For there he sat, silently weathering his current in the shade. The breeze whispered her kiss to his cheek and had his lips contoured in the shape of a grin. He looked at the lighter to hear it click. The flame looked back at him and smiled.

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