The wind feels great from here over the ridge I waited for this moment long and long ago It caresses my cheek finding it hard to contemplate with the suit and tie I wore a touch of professionalism they call it. comes and wishers finally again before anything apart from the several odds there would even been yet he decides to give a look back hard times he saw people came and they go everyone had different opinions and thoughts and in this small world the story goes on and on several paths he crossed several people he met and until now he was never complete finally golden gate he said finally the any way door he seek. Ready to jump he spreaded his wings god save the king he roared in his voice.
He looked and the world seemed different now about cosmos he thinks and speaks people call him mad but that’s not the first time someone has said this to him. He stays in his close confined room. Extremely opposite to what he ever sought, he never goes out sunlight never touches his brows and although it’s the blackouts he misses the most. I never thought this would happen he has become everything he always feared. He never cared much about success but from fear he always escaped, yet accept it or not the road kept them unified again and again till the end they stick. The child in him dead no one to talk to or even care he refused to accept the good no one knows whether he even existed. He listens to crickets the only thing he ever loved his kin at the time when his skin has turned pale guess he travels the world in his astral self. Although he was confined yet he always found some way.
Boy oh! Boy shouted the desperately tensed mother you never achieved anything except deteriorating the name I once gave to you I didn’t care but the whole family mourns see the winters more loyal than you every year she comes not departing but bringing people to close today I won’t cry seeing you like the old times I won’t lay a finger on you as you lost that right. I’ll cry my heart out complaining winter that she took my child and before the autumn comes, I would like you to leave this shrine.
Boy oh! Boy, it’s the winter collect the firewoods forget the heater today we’ll have a bonfire grabbing each other tight and celebrating creating a memory for eternity, and in every siesta that floats in the sky even when the wind blowers arrive just remember the moment just remember how kind the winter has been all your life.
Laughs all over everyone’s cheering saw the one in red
Glittered with the fake smile he holds
See how happy he is playing with the kids he laughs, rehearse
And plays the play over and over again
See he shares stories mostly creates with everyone and in every instant, he blends
If he can’t adapt he speaks and says thank you for anything good that ever embrace
He may not hold as tight as you hold your father’s hand
Maybe he never holds anything yet, isn’t it great that he knows how to detach.
I know it’s hard for you son your color is unique and it shines in marvelous ways
But sooner or later different scares the world sooner or later they’ll repel.
Son oh my son just be like the boy in red
Scared and timid the little boy still holding his father’s hand even though he weaved
He was determined to not let it go
Looked up with moist eyes with tears surfacing behind
Before breaking he clasped and whispered father my father I can’t see any boy in red
I try hard I look again and again, around and around
I can see the mighty lake sparkling bugle The ancient mariner but not the boy in red
Anklets talk with me the breeze kisses my cheek
But my father how would I find the boy in red
The father closed his eyes in anguish he peered at the innocent face and finally said
Gifting the best gift he himself ever received, the friend to hold
A spaceship finally something to flew away
Imagine said the father that’s the best dexterity one can ever posses
Just Imagine the boy in RED
What’re you going to do is insane. My friend didn’t you see the movies I said, I trust you and I think I you’re capable enough to drag me to shore. Don’t be mad shouted the scared friend come down and I’ll teach you how to swim. That’s the boy kept thinking all his life he feared the height and water the dual enemies who kept haunting his dreams. To draw in twigs he kept sinking down and down the room 101 for him was high not even knowing how to rise he flickered his legs he waved fought and somehow the surface never came to sight it was endless it was infinite. But today he wasn’t scared he gave a laugh maybe last he thought he jumped in oblivion god save the king that’s the last word he chose for his life.
Sliding beauty he saw her smiling every day finally a friend he saw in cheering face they had conversations he shared and she embraced under her yellow petals. Full of zeal they met even her thrones were felt as cotton washing the wounds away from the touch of the veil. She told him secrets she told him a chapter of a book called life she made her vulnerable and he plucked like the crocodile with tears fake as he was hollow as his heart was. Even when she left be happy said she as she was a happy soul extorted by the devil inside.
The thought a lot he dreamt a lot but the loop came galloping now and then struggled by life strangled by responsibilities he ran kept running in a loop from where he decided there he stayed he began but never moved ahead he was a brilliant child in schools he always stayed ahead. If you’ll see the marks they were highest always they used to call him by Horizon. The horizon which in itself never existed he never understood the parameters h hardly knew how to use lock and key in his teachers appreciated him the ideal example of paragon, once he used to be. He used to live in thought crisis yet blazed by the attention and the “attentive luxury” he received that’s the last time he remembers having steady hands. His name was there his objective and where he sees himself tomorrow these things were never fixed yet thousands of things had his answers vary in every possible way.
Chapter 9 ¾
What do you’ll want to become what are your ambitions asked the teacher and the voices echoed, Astronauts, engineers soldiers said the conservatives doctors teacher grinned the liberals. What do you want to become I looked with confusing eyes, yes you the one in red replied the lady with a knowledgeable mind. The boy was stunned, everyone has a destination what’s yours she asked again. What do you want to become.“Taxi Driver” the boy replied and the room echoed laughed giggled fingers kept pointing from every side he imagined the camera rolling over there faces zooming in and zooming out what an achievement he said what a feeling he felt to make others laugh no doubt he was an entertainer with a poor sense of humor fool they called him, at last, the lady spread his shroud waving the magic wand she brought the shelter of silence again like the silver lining between destruction and peace, don’t you have a destination she asked. I can’t say about mine madame he said but “I want to make sure others reach there and to be a part of their journey is all I want”.
On a sluggish warmth afternoon somehow rain appeared from nowhere it flattered, it dispersed with colors celebrating the sky painting the walls wind took an unnatural pace circular and circular yet kept there were some souls who echoed in an eternal piece of happiness a moment of once in the millennium which changed a lot of names a man with a pure heart became a father a woman kind, tough melodious and lovely thoughts became a mother the world looked and with a chivalrous grin it reflected and said now you handle this uniquely vibrant viscous and a slightly complex kid derived from poles and a nature of mood varying from extremes a boy was born a boy who loved the smell of gasoline and petrichor whispering wind in stone walls just to extract the essence. The boy who would in coming chapters ate chalk’s words, dance like mad, and jump in the pits to see the water splash.
or the literal taste of
A boy met a girl late as usual lost in thoughts trapped and strangling to escape from the never-ending But. And completely arranged not knowing what to ask or tell, see conversations were never his strength his hands were shaking words twisting turning forming a silhouette sentence he never heard before and again yet amongst the journey he met a stranger whom he loved to hear not knowing when the hour passed and the butterfly flew in a steady yet eloquent way and he saw someone who was buried deep beneath. “ No man is an island complete in himself ”.
Once upon a time, there was a paper a pen a mind full of wild thoughts, and a pair of trembling hands.
By- Kshitij Sinha