Friday, January 04, 2013

And the truth shall set you free..

He could build a story out of anything and everything.
 
When he walked down the street, his feet falling in turns between the tiny cracks on the sidewalk that no one else can see, he built up his own story. Brick by brick, crack by crack, looking around at everything and nothing, until the faces at the windows of a passing bus, the bearded man smoking aimlessly at the street-corner, the twinkle in her kohl-lined eyes, the droplets of rain that clung to his own hair, the ice-cream man in front of the mall, the group of pretentious girls outside that eatery and the unclad, uncared for child crying at the roadside swirled into one crazy mesh of abstract forgotten meanings that were so random that he couldn’t put them together anymore.
 
By the time he used to reach home, all that was one screaming chaotic mess of whimsical nonsense in a corner of his brain.
 
He sat in front of his grey-black laptop, opened an empty, inviting text document and placed his hands on the keys, the tips of his fingers fitting satisfyingly into the depressions in them where the letters were painted in bold white.
 
And he waited.
 
And he waited.
 
And he waited.
 
Like he had never tried before. Willing it all to come through. It was not a long way. Not really. Just out from the corner into the front, down through his neck, his shoulder, into his arms and out…OUT… through his fingertips. Like he had imagined and pushed and pushed and pushed so many times.
 
Oh, he could too. Make up stories out of everything and anything. But he wished sometimes that he could tell them. For real. Not just that fading dull scream tucked somewhere into the back of his brain. They only came alive for him. Only for him.
 
The unlimited expanse of human expression lay before his eyes and ears. He succumbed to its tempting call and was lured away to serenity. For a few moments, he found happiness, and for now, it was enough..
 
There was always a bit of him in every story he wrote.
 
This time he had no problem moving his fingers over the keys.
 
And this is what he wrote..
 
Once upon a time, in a city far, far away, there lived a girl with a smile to die for and eyes that weaved magic. She worked in a bank that liked to see (Read: _C_C_) everyone eye-to-eye (Read: I_I_I) and made their employees work on the last day of the year and the first day of the next. But, that’s beside the point..
 
Fact is, it so happened that there was a boy who lived in a city far, far away who.. well, who composed mediocre poetry & cracked really poor jokes.
 
Now, this boy once went to this girl’s city, met her, stayed for three dream-like days & they had a lot of fun. At the end of it, he had to go back to his city, & he missed her a lot. She never asked him why he had come to her city; if she had, he would’ve said, in an instant, “For you.. I came here for you.. because you need no reason.”
 
Soon after the boy had returned, there arose an opportunity for the girl to visit him in his city. He couldn’t believe it when he heard, & he wanted her to come visit him like he had wanted few other things in his life. But she said she wouldn’t..
 
She told him that they’d only have about 72 hours, that it was better to cherish what they had had already and carry on.. he reasoned that it was like putting up a score in the first Inings of an ODI; whatever you set, in hindsight it would always seem inadequate.. He believed that they would only add to the good memories they’d have; he wanted her so visit him.. But she said she wouldn’t..
 
He realized of course that it was perfectly understandable for her to not come; not to himself, but to her maybe.. What did it matter that he could prepare life for that moment, that second, that bit of eternity - waiting, training, living, till that moment came..? What did it matter that finally, when that point came, when he would get to meet her again – they would have immortality for that one second, that one heartbeat, the one cubicle in the history of the chaotic universe would become completely theirs..? What mattered was that she said she wouldn’t visit him..
 
 

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