-------------------------------------------------------------------------------- //PAST// Past was a stained photograph that I still hide in a tainted box kept in a dark room where i refuse to enter again. I haven't experienced much but it seems like its been such a long journey and my past speaks for it. What I was then and what I am now, it all got changed a lot. I was the same for some, maybe but changed for many.
There were phases when I used to laugh in tears it all sounds a fairy tale now as now no more laughing tears resides in these blurry eyes having tears just of pain. I grab the pen to ink something positive but it just scribbles pain nothing else.
What should I call my past? Good or bad? Was I good then or now? I suffer searching such questions that crosses my heart like a sharp knife.
Whenever I sit in silence at the roof staring the sky, my soul gets departured to a place called "somewhere between past and present."
It was precisely two thirty at night. I had just wrapped an assignment on Indian Philosophy and planned to slumber deep.
" How long are you going to be awake ?" " Give me fifteen minutes, I will switch off the lights" " Cool "
Dang. A facebook notification popped up. A familiar name,Shivam. I knew it was perhaps one of those nights when your folks push you to sip some extra alcohol and you sneak out of your room in cold just to text me the same question. Everytime.
" Do you remember me ?"
I sigh and realise everytime that I remember you as much as I remember myself. I remember you negotiating with your friends everyday to sit adjacent to my desk. I remember you walking after me to library to carry all the heavy books. I never had to ask. I had it all before asking. A chair before I felt tired, biscuits before I felt hungry, jokes before I felt low. I remember you once walking to me in the middle of the school playground where I was discussing Canterbury Tales with my class fellows,
" When did you develop a taste for literature? " I raised my eyebrow and enquired.
" You are looking beautiful " you said, you smiled and you disappeared.
You never cared about the count of people around. You never cared about the count of girls who went crazy each time you walked on the stage with a guitar in hand. And I do not know why, out of all the people why did you fall in love with someone who couldn't love you back.
On days like this I feel like crying on my knees and screaming before you, the fact that I was a mistake. That please for God's sake get back to music. It unsettles me, this feeling that someone stopped singing because of me. That someone stopped being himself because of me. This realisation is painful to nerves, that maybe I was nothing more than a love interest for you. Because in my side of the story you were the only friend to whom I talked about brownies and sparrows. I wish you knew that I write you in poems and that I think of you each time I see a bearded man in crimson shirt. I don't love you but I remember you, I do.
" Reading philosophy does something to you , isn't it? " " Yeah. And it's more than fifteen minutes now " " So who is he ? " , my roommate smirked. " To define is to limit. That's the bottomline of all philosophy " " I will either go mad or become a philosopher in your company " ~ It was ten minutes to three . The lights were put off. I stared at the screen for a fraction of second , dismissed the notification and slept.