After A Goodbye

“Yes! Goodbyes are tough, really tough.”

Not the ones which are formal, prescribed, ceremonial, punctilious and the playfully experimented. Some of them are forced, that show you how easily they can let you march out from their lives after pursuing what you felt as lifetime soul connectivity, but they are the truths and they actually make you believe them. But still they don’t meet the toughness and grief up to the real despairing values, if they are not the ones where you feel you really didn’t want to but had to.

Those are the goodbyes that kill you alive every second for the immorality you were forced to carry out lured by the mind, even after knowing the expected turn up in the end. They are the ones that you faced with a fake smile, hiding the bitterness flowing through each and every part of your inside. Yes! You did think differently, in fact more seriously, more deeply despite knowing the unquestionable probability of a damaged you, ruined you in the ultimate finish. Even then, you were never reluctant. Not because you had gone too far dreaming, not because you had broken the line of your formal privacy, not because you had started to enjoy and appreciate every single moment of it. It’s because you simply or seriously can’t do thinking, “How can I suddenly leave?”

It’s not about love, not about friendship, not about anything you adored to the utmost level of perfection. It’s simply about the habit you did get used to after it did arrive to you when you needed the most. It’s about the exchange of care and understanding. And most importantly, it’s about the togetherness.

But after all you should have to realize that you have to let it go. You will surely need pretexts for that and I guarantee, you will need it if you really feel you have wanted it all your life. That pretext, which will pick few of the stones of agony of a separated life, and reduce the pain by a little extent in order to just make you believe that you said goodbye for a reason. And that will make you live, not convincingly, but you will really live.

Call Of The Fluid

What happens when you know that your head is the only lively thing present all over the environment, and your limbs fly all around? What happens when you feel that today is your day, and you are going to live it to the fullest? What happens when you can reply someone with the truest of thoughts, irrespective of the lie beneath which you usually word out? What happens when you feel you are in the top of the world, and you care for none, not even yourself? What happens when you feel you can do anything? What happens actually when you know yourself? These questions, the answers of which hardly power your zeal in a normal day, just can make you only utter the following words, Last night; it was too much for me.

Talking about the hangover in the morning, the most unbearable health related problem that have been distasting addicts for ages, such was the situation for me on that Sunday morning. I woke up to find myself on the floor which was gardened with the empty rum bottles, half left pegs, chicken leg pieces, chips with their packets and ashes of burnt cigarettes everywhere. Is this my room or hell!!! I exclaimed to myself hardly believing that was the particular place where I slept the night before. That abnormal dizziness circling around the head and the puking sensation from inside was just burdening me. The screaming lectures of the night faintly disturbed my ears. And the foremost need, the thirst for water dried out my throat. In fact everything was welcoming me, hey you, back to reality, again.

Reality!!!??? What actually was unreal about yesterday night? Unreality is not always about having a joy ride in a chariot above the skies. Unreality is not always about attaining superpowers to rule the world. Unreality is not always about being famed or infamed overnight. Unreality is not always about being what you feel is unreal.

It’s sometimes the moment when you can feel your existence everywhere. It’s when you know your involvement in each and every second of time. It’s when you work on even the neglected normal thoughts by digging to the depth of yourself. In fact you are true and always true on every single movement of yours. But the interesting case in all these is that they are all real. Yes, they are real, considering unreality as the depth of reality.

The hot tea and the poached egg at Panky’s did serve a little for a relaxation, but failed to erase the odour emerging from my mouth. A light smoke under the ceiling fan of my room went well. I felt I was standing sick and confused between two different worlds, one the stressful reality and other the reality of the world of mine which I always crave for. Finally, I did remember. I took out the unfinished bottle from my drawer. The crystal red rum looked awesome. The magnitude of its call was luring and hard to resist. Despite the situation at that moment which showed its devastating nature, the fiery but flavorous entry of its flow through the throat to the inner core of the chest made me think high.

There was a world standing to adore me to its centre and make its heavenly flow from the limbs to the tiny capillaries of my blood cells. There was a world that was vehemently awaiting my arrival to appreciate every moment of it. That was a world of relief, a world to forget everything but to live life. Surely, that was my world and it was my reality.

I cheered to myself, “It’s Sunday yaar.........!!!!!!!”