Sympathetic Magic

                                       Sympathetic Magic 

      

     She was playing with him. He carried his sister on his legs. He chortled every time as he winded her to and fro through the cold air. The littlest angel in the heaven was giggling as her weightless body was all up, on the balance of his knee. She dropped herself and fell on his stomach laughing with her randomly sized teeth. He tickled her. The laugh of the bean echoed. Her baby teeth let her giggle be as important as to be recorded in a box full of hearts. The next day, they grew up.

     They fought over a remote. She hit that growing body. He hit her back. She whimpered and let him get an earful from their parents for the mistake he had not done. He boiled and never talked to her. Her little hands touched his and she asked for forgiveness and looked into his eyes. He threatened her that his fist would soon be on that face of hers. The little creature of his complained that he was not talking. She went over to him again and kept calling him until he couldn’t control his laughter. The girl chuckled and it was like rain to the driest of the driest lands. The next day, they grew up.

     He was running through the corridors to escape from her. The mini form of troublesome was chasing him. She caught him and held him by his collar. He lifted her and pushed her away as he started to bolt towards the sofa. The girl shouted at him and chased him again. The couch let some distance apart them which was soon covered. She seized his shirt and soon created haste by rolling on the floor with him and then she called out, “Game over!”  The next day, they grew up.

     He studied. The boy was no longer playing with her. The little girl was no longer the same naughty little dangerous creature. He had a flask of tea stored for him every time he studied late night. His books were in his captivity now. He stopped talking to everyone near him. He studied and only studied. His marks arrived. The house glistened with joy. The next day, they grew up.

     The music played, to his ears. The earphones were ruling him. The light of the phone reflected on his face. That light was disguising itself as the light he himself had. The light she could give him. Those eyes were busy enough not to love her.

     Those hands were not there to hold her anymore. His back was not there to carry her anymore. The corridors were not filled with their cries anymore. The couch could not see them play anymore. The cold air could not hear their hilarity anymore. They could not see any half broken remotes anymore. Their lives couldn’t see themselves anymore.

They did not know what the destiny has in store for them anymore now.

…

They were not “them” anymore.

And so, they grew up.

   

   

Strings of music

                               

                      Strings of Music.           
          
          He read. He read as he turned to look at her. She was not there anymore. She left. He searched for that absent angel there. He looked at the clock. The time he wanted to know had drifted away as he had been dreaming to climb the mountains. He shouted her name. The girl never showed up. He looked at the grey walls filled up with blues. He saw her coming from the colour-less wall. Her wings were not tied anymore. Her hand was on his cheeks. He fluttered with the angel as her wings carved his hands. The feather from another feather looked at him, as he shouted her name that echoed through the dusty walls. She was the queen in the empire of just subjects. There was no king. Her hand was not filled with scars anymore. Her wings bristled through his cheeks. Her face was not tearful anymore. She looked at him through her flawless eyes. He gazed at her beauty. The same beauty he couldn’t put a name for before. He had no tides in him. He was silent. His whole body was stringent. He was like a sea without any tides. He was no longer arresting people with his charming twinkle. Instead, he abducted people with his tears now. He tore the pages of the book. The book was torn into a hundred pieces. He threw it on the wall. The opus of his toil was shred into pieces. They were up in the air.

          Blood oozed out from his tender body. She was not there. The angel with wings had let him become a corpse. The wooden floor was teeming with his fluid. The ground was clubbing with despondency.

           There were barricades around him. They took him outside into the wild world. They drew his outline on the floor with a chalk. He was never white like the chalk. He was always black. They hoarded his hand work. In it, he had written,

“I ran. And I just continued running. Until, I saw her. Then, I forgot that I had to run. Later, she ran leaving me lone in this lousy world. Then, I ran too. But, just into the beats of the heaven.”

The faded flower

                         The Faded Flower
          
          She was resting on those worn-out walls, her stooped  back touching the wall. Her old wrinkled profile was showing that innocent face of her's. She was swinging her legs and looking at the shadow of her's. She was expression-less. The old lady moved to her side and sprawled on her bed which was cranky with all her clothes. Her old ragged Sari was going to rip apart in a few more days. She lied on the bed but never did she close her eyes. She just lied there. She was lonely. Her eyes told that as she came up with tears. She was lying on the wooden bench and was looking up at the 4 wall room. Her color-less hair was all out. All that was new in her was only those salty drops of tears that were out. She melted like wax from a candle which did not need her anymore. Her mouth was open. She lied there, not moving a bit. She kept quiet. Her hand had nothing which belonged to her. It was very long before she was into paradise. She was a showcase of peacefulness. Her profile was all down as she got up and went to her rusted iron cupboard. She drew open her cupboard which had nothing but a set of the same kind of old saris and a small bag. She ploddingly bore the bag and took a photo from it. She went back steadily to her bed and her petite framework clasped the bed sheets around as she sat down on the bed. She groaned, as her muscles overtook her. Her sunrise which had dawned a few years ago had clouds filled with rain now. And her tears ran through, spilling the rain out. She perched on the bed, like a bird on a tree. The tree had all of it's leaves shredded. Her leaves shredded on the ground of life. She was solus. Her figure collapsing as she welled up with tears. She lay on the couch. And lay there. And she never got up. Never did her body come up again, as it did before. Never did she charmingly smile, as she did before. Never she lived, as she lived before. 
They asked him who he was.
He replied,
"Her son."
He returned with his photo and the burnt ashes of her.
And She Never Lived.

Blues.

                                  Blues

               "I love you" he said, making me blush again. I smiled and couched myself on him. His hand was on my cheeks, and his lips on mine. The road was very peaceful, maybe for us. It was only a band of light that was visible to my eyes. His beautifully shaped eyes' mirror returned me back. Two souls were becoming one. 
"Whom do you love?" he asked me.
The lime lights were thrown on me. I drew him nigh, and kissed him. I turned and got my sweater hitting my back as I moved away from him, and secretly hitting a smile. He held me by my hand and pulled me onto him. 
"Hmm?" He asked again, making it really awkward.
"Maybe you!" I replied, smirking at his absurdity.
He held me by my waist, then. And silently said,
"Maybe?"
I put my sweater on him, on his face which was demanding an answer. He stood there, like an idiot wearing a sweater on his face. 
I said,
"Only you.." and left. 
               You were like the sunrise in my life. In my life which was, very gloomy. But I never expected, that it was going to be named,
Blues.

Lost.

                             Lost.                    
                 
               It's 12'o clock in the morning. I am, waiting, still waiting, for your reply. My brain knows, that you are done with me. But, my heart, doesn't. It is still having hearts under it's cover waiting, since forever. My brain tells me not to talk to you. My brain knows, that you are an actor. My heart doesn't. I was not great. There were other girls too. You came. I twinkled like a star in the middle of darkness. You left me now. I turned out. The lights went out. My heart went out. You went out. 
               You are a Tiger. You want only fresh preys. Let me not be your deer. Let me be your Tigress. Together, we could stand, drunken in the love of ours. 
               My heart is shaking with wild winds of all of your old love. The only Umbrella I had was you. You flew off too, into the lush. My heart is screaming now, trying to let go of you. 
               You are not mine, anymore. I don't show up in any of you now. You don't know, that I miss you. You don't know that, I will never stop missing you.  You don't know, that, I am crying. You don't know, that, I truly loved you. I close my eyes. I wish it never opens again.

Souvenirs

                             Souvenirs       

                     
                  I guessed, (sorry, I was sure) that you were not like others. Not like others, who were thrown out of my life. I was sure that you were different, and I was so damn sure that you would pleasure me. I was convinced that every touch of your hands were not like others. I was positive about those little intimate talks we had. I was secure in your arms which held me taut, and laughing. All those times, you used to tattle to me about all those girls you supposedly did not care about, flashes in front of me every second I look at you. Every time I look at your face, which conveys no sort of that feeling. I still have in mind, those evenings, we spent together, my hands covered in yours, my head on your shoulder. All those times you used to hear to all of my brooding, I believed you. But I forgot, that believe itself had the word lie in it. I was happy while I was with you. And whenever, you used to listen to my hyper talks, and embrace me. I, unfortunately remember everything. I still recall those times, when you used to cuddle with me on your squishy bed. I loved you with all my heart, as you put your wet lips on mine. And your hands on my face, caressing it. And all those endless hours you spent with me, carrying me under your arms as I wept about things. And I know, I shouldn't recall this, but, I was induced that you actually seriously loved me, whenever you took my hands and once again, recited on how much you loved me. I was fooled. I believed you and I never imagined that you would leave me like this, wandering in search for a home of my own. You ran away now, leaving me with nothing but tears. You left me now, and my hands which once, you never were going to let go off. Myself, which, once upon a time, you relished. My body, which, long time ago, you treated with hugs and kisses. Every part of me is longing for you, your scent. 
               It is past now. It was a present, then, when I was not hysterical.