Searching for seashell


What makes a man? Is it vices? The enticement you get when he makes things look extraordinary? When he makes things look simple for you to believe that it might be worth the risk? Just open your eyes and lay your arms out as wide as you can and feel that warmth, that warmth which you feel when you’ve done all you could and the rest is UpTo the planet which keeps spinning until it’s time to stop? Does he have it in him to tell the woman that he loves her? Does he have it in him to chase his dreams and make the world a better place? Does he have what it takes to think of the unthinkable and win the unwinnable? If he wants to be a millionaire or a loving human being? There’s no ending to the possibilities of what you can achieve, it’s all out there. People do the unthinkable all the time, just step into the light and achieve your share of the glory even if it’s as little as bringing a smile to another human being or animal in their time of need. There’s no script for you to follow, just write on as you go along. 

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Everyone’s a romantic 

It was a pleasant night at anvari town, the rain paused itself graciously allowing the trees and animals to breathe before it commences for a longer duration of time. The dimly lit streetlight wasn’t much of a silver lining for those who needed it, it was rather a pointer stating that it’s too late and you need to get to shelter as soon as possible. The sounds were less, croaks croaking of love, the rowdy owls hooting for what seemed to have amused them, the wild dogs howling, giving the entire village a warning for the dangers of bigger predators. But the most admirable creatures who I would like to thank personally would be the fireflies. They made miral happy,  she didn’t smile for them but I could see it in those deep brown eyes. 

“It makes me happy, those fireflies. They are the most beautiful creations of God”. Which gave me the chills of a relation where there was always a third person involved, privacy is a sarcastic definition for no secrets at all. “I know you don’t have faith Zo, but one day you will when you open your eyes”. 

“I have faith in you, better yet I; I have faith in what you believe in and that’s more than enough for me”. The romantic always on his toes. 

Sleeping under a tree with a stream in front of us flowing into the jungle, providing food and shelter for the beings of the wild. The nights in anvari were cold most of the time because of the Himadri range. Snow would come and go, the sun would rise and set but the weather would always be the same, cold enough to love somebody as much as you can. 

“Why don’t you write Zo?” You’d make a better writer than a soldier!”. Her surety is unfathomable. It is because of that, we are in love. I would always help her at school, assist in anyway I could. Make her happy, feed her when she didn’t get any food, fight for her when it came to dance partners during the annual sisters Christmas program. Everyone knew about us and it was not like she was shy, delicate or quiet. She was bubbling with energy, she’d love school. A distraction from her disjointed family. She’d be the topper every year. She’d rush to school most of time without bringing her lunchbox, she’d always be at the top of everything and truly she was at the top of my heart, the hormones truly are mystics. After the tenth grade, she made a definite statement, she kissed me on my dry lips and said, ” You love me zozi and I love you, we will definitely be together regardless of all the problems we would have to face.” We parted ways as I was leaving with sorrow in my soul. Graduation meant the world to me. Through my time, letters and calls were what kept me alive apart from my exams, assignments and friends. 

Here we are, sitting under a tree, all grown up, still the same kids, this time bigger and better yet still foolish and arrogant. If there was one thing to describe our relationship it would be ” suckers for cheesy love stories by authors who have  never had one”. She’d always retort, “maybe we’ve grown up too much that we might need that cheesiness to come back, maybe that’s why the shady entertainment business of the movie industry in India still sticks to the same plot because deep down inside the person who’s intellectual enough to relate between the Uber and cheesy things in life does long for a fantasy when he/ she falls on the bed”. The journalist has the last say. 

We lay on the wet soil, cooling our backs while we look at the star filled sky, thinking of what is yet to come. One thing is for certain, in any form or manner everyone’s a romantic. 

Roy

Sweet bird of the seventh district 

​Carry these wounded soldiers 

Oh fate!

These soldiers of blood shed and hate 

Gather around all you folks of the hill

Come take all you can, more than your fill
Oh merry good jumping lady folk

Why do you give so much hope?

To the leaping lads of tomorrow?

Who hide their pity and feed on sorrow
Mr minister where do you go?

You seem so bright, look at you glow 

Come righteousness young

Look at the elders

At the expense of your fun
Jumbled in their head alright

Drunk jn vanity, the plight

Shadows casting a grey skin tone

Please don’t make me go there alone
It’s dark, cold and shiverously fun

Call me crazy, but I have none 

When will be the hour of the sun?

What time will we eat?

What time will we be done?
Can I rhyme all my life alone?

I feel so sad for my very own 

Have to pick up the pieces of my loss

Freeze time, that’s the cost.
Roy