|At Taj Mahal, Agra, India, October 2013|
He is afraid that she will say good bye from the other side of the glass. And he will keep on waiting. Life will tap him on the shoulder and whisper that he waited a wait that never was. Don’t go away, his eyes say. But, on days like these, even that is too much to ask. He considers burning the letters for the warmth that they once gave. Because the flame of every candle he burns dies before the night ends. If only, burning memories was as easy. All he wishes is for a candle that burns all night. Especially when the night is long and full of terrors. A wishful thinking, but he doesn’t understand.
One seldom laughs. And one always cries.
One seldom lives. And one always dies.
Light, with all its ferocity, skill and speed, struggling through millions miles of nothingness and emptiness, takes eight minutes to kiss the earth. He does not how to give up because the same light has touched him every day. He does shiver because the winds of winter have finally come. Often, he is only a touch away from crumbling, but he doesn’t know it. Tenacious is the word. It is the only word which makes sense today.
The season of autumn paid me a visit and left all the trees in my garden bereft of leaves, flowers and hope. Only the thorns survived. That and a few unanswered questions. It painted my life with the color of dusk and filled it with the sound of things falling apart. A page from a book of thousand pages engraved with emptiness is ruffling in the silent wind. “Sometimes, when you pull someone closer, you are pushing them away”. So, I stand where I am. A sad feeling in the heart is a good thing once in a while. It means heart is where it should be.
The sea will drown all the beautiful moments.
And, the stories written on sand will be washed away.
Layers of time and weight of distance will float,
But, buried deep into the sands, my footprints will stay.
Sometimes, we are not in the cocoon, we are the cocoon. We are the ones holding us back. But, we still came this far. Struggle will breed courage. And we will finally know what we are. Our memories will be so beautiful. Who knew? It was courage that brought us here. It is courage that will see us through. I know that flowers of hope will bloom again. Do you?
P.S - The title taken from a dialogue from the movie " The New World"