The day arrives. Like every year, it comes and every time it is the same; for others as well as her. For others it is the festival of colours, the day everyone is drenched in myriad shades from top to bottom, barely recognizable. The day Bhang is the substitute for water and sweets are had more than staple food! The day starts with the only weapon of the day: the pichkari and it ends with an ambrosial dinner with close friends and family. It is the day where everyone, a neophyte or an elderly are all smiles about being smeared with colours.
Amidst all the plethora of colours, the paint of the house has faded. It sticks out like a sore thumb among the heavily coloured houses of the block.
The din of the outside world doesn’t reach her ears. The screams of delight and the squeaks resulting from the splash of cold water on the skin doesn’t make her look out of the window. A child passes by, sees her by the window and plots a devious little plan that his puny brain can fathom. A balloon comes out from his pocket and he takes aim. Splash! the gulaal – filled balloon strikes right below the open window and the red colour makes a deep mark. It almosts looked like a perfect piece of abstract art had the canvas been so wrong!
She walks up to the window and sees her culprit and his crime. The kid runs away, petrified of the repercussions to his mischief.
The red spot reminds her of this day, a few years back. It was a Holi like any other, all the right vibes and the pleasant atmosphere in place. A perfect irony to what would follow. Weather has a knack for this, teasing humans by providing the perfect weather whenever there’s an impending doom nearby. He was just nineteen years old. A brilliant child, with the perfect manners and an amazing persona. The perfect kinda of son that any mother would kill for! Life’s irony at its best, the woman who had given birth to him never got to see him. Life chose to take away her power of vision but that wasn’t enough. On the day the whole world celebrates colours, she lost the one who made her feel she was never blind!
Two years passed; no calls, no contact. The only voice that jingles in my ears, you said, “I’m not your friend that I’ve to answer all your texts.”
There was something that I always felt intriguing about you. I tried hard to find the answers in these two years but I failed most of the time. It was not a usual attraction, nor a sexual lust. It was neither your curves nor those moments. It was your very presence, the candid curve of your smile, the grace when you walk, the high falling streaks of your hairs that made me lost in you. I always thought that God has manufactured our eyes in a factory but God has crafted yours by His own hands. It was always me who ruined the moments, always me to drive you apart, always me to be the reason for your sorrow; yet you forgave me all the time. You always tried to seek the good from me when I threw my bad at you. I don’t want to ask you for an apology for all the shit that I did. I rather want to thank you for making me realize when you cried behind me. In this two years of time, I found the real Me. I paved the path that I always wanted to; all these events may not have happened if you didn’t say so two years back. I loved you then and I absolutely do so now, but the equations have changed. Love has got a new definition in my life. The affection, that I had before is still there in me, suppressed by the very truth of the reality but these days, I rather respect you more than I love you. I can understand the insecurities embedded deep inside you, the pressure of making the only life you have got to count, where you want to be recognized, the judgemental disposition from your family; all of this which resists you from loving me! I love you and I mean it! That doesn’t mean that I want you to do all the stuffs like the others who think they are in Love. Why not let us make a new trend of love? Something genuinely unique. We don’t need to get close, no need for dates, no kisses, no hugs, no intimacy. Why don’t we just enjoy each other’s presence in our hearts and feel the sweet vibes? Let the beat of our hearts synchronize and realize that no matter who in this world hates us; we love each other forever, till eternity lasts! – Drik Paul.
Somewhere in this world..
The car door opened and a hand fell lifelessly and touched the grass which had the chilly dew drops on it.
Two months earlier, Sydney..
Enjoying the Christmas Party with a Bloody Mary sat a girl with cat-eyes, long hair with blonde highlights gazing through the unknown population in the club.
Selfies was not her thing, so she stayed aloof from her gang.
Took a picture of her drink, posted on Instagram captioned “Of Christmas things and travel diaries.. #BloodyMary #SydneyCelebratesChristmas#OneDownFromTheList #YOLO “
Her mind is her only weapon. Smart. Witty. Beautiful. And yes, those eyes can really do wonders. A perfectly imperfect girl who can turn you down with her killer smile..
12 hours passed. The hand still lifeless. The breeze started to calm the heat and the sun was about to set. No sign of human life in miles.
An abondoned girl.
On an abondoned place.
Her heart still beating slowly.
Avantika, will you wake from your nightmares?
We are Strange. We Divide and we tend to Group. Aptly void of emotions and basic Humanity, we are traveling, crawling so to speak towards that inevitable day where the World paradoxically consumes Us as we are consuming it now.
What are we? ‘The most advanced form of Life’ ? ‘the beings’ with the most developed brain? or are we the “Epitome of Self-Destruction“? We think deeply and regret when a woman is brutally ripped off her dignity and then we change the channel and LO! that feeling vanishes, refocuses to the next big blockbuster or an item song!
This is where we have come; prodding, since ages..
From Achilles to Caesar, millions have come and gone propelling the after thought that maybe we are mere test cases,lab rats,failed experiments of that Supreme power. How can we accept that ‘this’ – “We” are the Almighty’s “finest creations”?
Is there an end? I do not think so because Life does not provide us with the Luxury of a “Restart” button! We crawl and drag ourselves to that day, “Apocalypse”, whose meaning is explained by popular beliefs and the dictionaries as ‘the day when each and every human is grouped into One set and judged personally by God whether they should prevail in the Heavens or befall to the depths of Hell’. That day is coming..
Are you prepared? Are we; we the people prepared?
The school bell rang..
The ecstatic bunch of students rushed out of their classes wishing each other “Happy Holidays”
Only one sat at the very corner of the room, carefully placing the bookmark and then pulled the chain over.
Forced introvert. So, he keeps himself confined in the stories which is his world.
Holidays always pleased him because he could be himself all the time. And there was no one to pull him out of his world of fantasy. But this one was different..!
What was different?
The first time their eyes met at the Howrah Station when co-incidentally their trains were on schedule (which was nothing unusual those days).
A born bong but to be brought up somewhere she didn’t know yet.
Also introducing Wridwik,
On his way to Ahmedabad, to meet his grandmom. Not a Gujju.
Little did they know that destiny had something else planned for them.
Two different trains.
Two different destination.
Journey Continues……. Continue reading
Hello world! Papers on fire is about all those emotions that cannot be explained. Here’s hoping that we connect with you every step of the way. We hope to reach out to you.