Even when there was no logical reason.
The buses rumbled past. afar, the lights of the byepass gleamed like a golden necklace. Arcing away like the Cosmic Curve.
"If I rode on a beam of light..."
Immutable. Inscrutable. The grey-black world around him. He longed for the night, when only the steady wheeling of the semi-obscured firmament would be the silent witness to his emotions.
He believed that to show emotions was not for him. Gladly bidding bosom mates farewell. A shake of the hand, rent-a-drool smile. Short nod. That was all. Now at the behest of comrades he cast aside his Zen-like mask. Only to reveal that all he could show were pseudo-feelings.
He had stopped caring.
He stopped dying.
Anyone can die . It takes a lot to die at the right time. Calculating the maximum no. of mourners.
He would've liked it like they say in the stories: the rain that washed away the grime, the dirt, the gloom.
For him, it only caused wetness. Anough to disguise the moisture around his eyes. They were raindrops, of course.
Wished he could stop caring. Or at least show that he cared. Really cared. But he couldn't do that either.
Read Sartre. Words. They are only waves in the air, unless they can cause waves in your soul.
Now since when did he start believing in souls? You need to have one to know about it all.
Memories. That is perilous. Not that way, no, never. That was lies madness. "Kapurush."
"Have only two pills."
"What if I have more?"
"I do not think you will..."
"Aakash paney haat baralem kaharo torey..."
I knew not for whom
I reached out to the heavens above.
Knew not that you had come, even unto my room.
Shrouded in the Dark, I sat
Wreathed in monochrome dreams.
I knew not that the tumult, the chaos, the storm
Was the crest of your triumph.
At the break of morn the Light
Flooded my eyes, that beheld
Your form, standing
And then I and He
Them and Us
Friend and Lover
And I rise above, lifted
On the argent wings
Of sorrow sublime
That itself is joy
Loss and possession
Love and Hatred
Are the side of the same coin.
He cried out. Remembering.
For a moment he was like a bird.
I'm an angel, going to a heaven I ever mistrusted.
Then the lights no longer gleamed, all lost in the howl of speed.
He arced as he fell, more graceful than ever in life.
They say you can see your whole life before you.
He only remembered how someone had once shown him the Soviet salute.
And that he wanted others to hear his Swansong. A significant other. Correction. An other to whom he never was really significant.
He realised that he loved life.