It was written in the stars that I plucked raising my hand to safeguard in my fist. When I opened it later, I found nothing but some golden dust all over my palm and a divine coolness. As a young girl, I always believed life to be as juicy and sweet as mango pulp but soon I realised, it was the kernel that resembles it. Hard and bitter. Bypassing all those years I felt the same coolness when he held my hands in his and I found the same golden dust on my palms that creeped to my cheeks blushing the charming February day. He, a dream, my eyes weaved with the golden threads to hold my broken self to carve later in a monolithic structure. Or may be, a magical potion that my eyes drank to fathom the marbles of life through unfiltered emotions. Nah, perhaps he was the star, God assigned for me to eradicate every trace of darkness that covered my soul.
Tick... tock... tick... tock... time was going so slow as if someone has tied its ends to both the poles and it froze to move. I tried to wake myself up from the deep slumber, I was in, but eyes were stuck in that frozen time zone. World around me had sucked every particle of the air to create a vacuum and I could not hear my own heart beats. I realized, life is so momentary that it can pass through the narrow chink between the doors of darkness. He disappeared in the echos of mountains riding on the clouds to another world and I, the mortal remains of that dead storm stayed to decay as slowly as time... tick... tock.. tick... tock...
One day sitting at a coffee shop; An old one, with tainted window glass, Facing the crowded street, I looked through the glass, Everything seemed obscure, It always used to be. But that day something happened, Also, as it is used to be sometimes.
I saw those obscure people, Speeding vehicles and that flower shop, From where me and my father, Used to buy white lilies for my mother, Melting in each other. What remained was a clarion view, In which I could see my father and I , Leaving the coffee shop White lilies in backdrop. and suddenly a speeding car hitting my father.
The last touch I felt of him was a hard push Ramming me on the flower shop, And the background changing to red. That scarlet never left me after that….
I returned to reality(?), By some loud chitter chatter, Of college students. What was that ,I think now, Was it a delusion? Or reality in some other universe? Or am I living in a delusion, And reality has frozen in that moment?
Because I am coming here for last 60 years, Sitting on the same table, People come, sit around me, chat and leave. Oblivious of me. And yes, In last sixty years, No one has asked bill for my coffee.