#savage_words

I want you to remember me, not like the settling sun but the rising moon, fierce but volatile. Remember me as a silent beach, the one with many pits, like a wind mill but smaller. I want you to not remember me as an eagle, flying once and covering a distance too long for others to cover but as a sparrow, focussing on belonging and surviving each day.

I want you to remember me, not as a person who loves tea but a person who'll make one for you when you are down. Remember me not as the star but as those asteroids which were too intense to break the ozone but not that strong to make the mark. Please do not remember me as a Messiah of all things good, don't call me your savior. Remember me as a person, an individual, a body, a feeling, a human; a human.

If at all you want to remember me, remember me when that first rain drops, remember me whenever you see a child smile, remember me when you see yourself in the mirror and really appreciate what you look at. Remember me in those stolen glances, those unsaid noises, those thoughts where you question yourself, those moments in which you actually feel alive. Remember me whenever you see lavenders falling your way or when you stop to just breathe. Inhale-Exhale, Inhale-Exhale, Inhale-Exhale.

Moron in the morning,

A fearful prospect for those in charge.

Selling the soul to Evil is a mistake that will loom large.

If others are not to know, one must remain in charge.

Evil will pretend to listen and encourage one throughout,

but one must work with materials given, even when they’re witless louts.

If you want to sell the lie, then Evil needs an effective disguise.

Power and Success must radiate out, so Experience and Costume must suggest compliance is wise.

What to do when the facade begins to crack?

Will you then be able to get your old life back?

Can you control your puppet with the looks and wits of a mango fruit?

Or will there be a collision between your head and society’s boot?

I had a dream last night. In that dream i was siting at the corner seat by the window of classroom staring out . I could hear they were talking about "how is he now" "I don't know "

"Don't we go visit him " just then one of them asked me "Do you know what happened to him"

Just then the atmosphere around me changed and I was in a hospital. I could see a boy laid down on a bed before me there were some equipment.

I went close to him and asked "how is you?"

Then I saw his left hand is bandaged to his ankle and he smile and told

"you should have asked me earlier,So i could tell you more"

Then closed his eyes, one of equipment which was showing frequency like graph is became a line and warm tear rolled through my chicks.

Next day I went school and realised the person is sitting behind me and staring out somewhere far in his thoughts. I turned around and asked him

"Tell me more"

Then after two or three days we were both sitting opposite to each other in cafetaria. I was unpacking foil of sandwich.

He told me "I guess I'm falling"

I got surprised and aside the removed foil and asked him "tell me more atleast tell me about the looks" these confession time always excited me.

"Edgy ,sharped and pills like features" he answered and gulped his coke. I never heard a boy talking like that about his crush. But when I saw he has nothing to eat ,Then I divided my sandwich into two then placed one on the lid of my lunch box and another into my lunch container.

Then i forward the lid to him

" first time is always sucks it got failed most of the time , so, fall for it I can guarantee your romance will be cheesy without any vegy" Then i eat mine so he and didn't bother to asked him more .

I got another dream and this time the boy is on the top of floor of building at the edge of the school building he has a sharp knife and some pills scattered at the roof.

I could see the blue sky from here but the sun turned black and the sky become more darker .

"I'm falling deep" he said and jumped

I have an active imagination. I am born to build walls, to break the chains, to free the slaves, to free myself.

I am making a difference, I am changing the course of time, I am allowing people to be who they want to be, fear nothing and live life on there own terms.

Yesterday only, I fought with a dragon, I reclaimed my territory, I freed the the people who needed freeing, I was the hero, the villain the conqueror, the survivor.

I have an active imagination and I can be anyone, can do anything, can achieve anything, can pass any hurdle.

I can live as long as I want to, I can eat as much as I want, I am the scholar, the Nobel laureate, the president, the prime Minister, I am the person in power and the person living a life in the Himalayas but most importantly I am me with all the inhibitions and I am happy.

Water on the streets, creating an illusion of a mirror, perhaps, a mirror only. Sat by the cold glass wall of the cafe at the Central Market, waiting for the day to go by. Sitting beside me, I saw those watchful eyes, dreaming, with open eyes. The kind of eyes that never rests perplexed but not really. Writing in my thought journal, a process, I dread. There had been a murder recently in the city and 20 million people, still drawn towards the race that is life. The crime scene is set, barricades put, police rushing in and out with the autopsy reports. As far as we know, it’s murder. I looked up my journal and found the stranger looking deep gone in my writing and with a, rather, muddled gaze, he stood up and left. This behavior is not odd in this city and I never judged him for he read all those gory details at 9 a.m. on a Monday morning. As I took the last sip of my Caffé latte, I felt a cold stare coming directly diagonal to me; it’s a blessing, peripheral vision. The stranger sat down next to me, it was my time to be perplexed and he gave me that space. We ordered another round of caffeine for what was coming ahead needed a mind that could think.

After exchanging details in the 5 mins time span that is set for small talk, we started getting out of topics to discuss but he stayed as if he knew that there will be an end to this meeting. He began to question me on what he had read in my journal and I was more than happy to let him know about all the abominable details. Those were simpler times; there was no Netflix, nothing else to talk about other than Moral Philosophy and the birth of Morality. 30 minutes passed and the discussion had escalated to a point of impasse, where no one had anything more to contribute, nothing more to say, to hear, to think. “Fear”, he exclaimed, “makes us do terrible things.” It didn’t make any sense then like it makes now and yet as intrigued as I was in understanding what he meant, I also had to be somewhere as an obligation. “Well yeah, to cover their tracks, people do crazy things”, I affirmed. He looked up, then through the glass wall; outside and I knew that he had something to say, “Fear-”, he started “-not just to create an alibi, fear in general, the literal meaning of which we all understand but in different ways.”, clearly getting on to something, he added “for birds, fear may be losing their home; bad weather, for the Barista; a bad customer. For me, to not know enough fears me and for you, right now, not being able to reach, wherever you want to reach, on time.” I sensed a deep shudder in my spine, a shudder so loud and apparent that the entire cafe could make it out.

He went on speaking, “a long long time ago, during the days of Noah, there was a boy, his name was Elijah, his parents had long gone due poverty and had a granddad on a verge of dying. There had been a warning issued of the ultimate doom of the world and that boy,  Elijah, was happy, for once in his life-it wasn’t going to be difficult to live. Little did he know that the end of times was far too long into the future and till then they had to survive for which he cheated, traded, looted and ultimately gained enough fortune to subsist life. It was a month before the doomsday that Elijah got a deadly case of smallpox and died 10 days before the end of times. When reached the gates of heaven, Elijah was asked to accept his crimes and justify his actions to which he bellowed no guilt and pleaded all his acts as the acts of necessity”. At this moment, I had already forgotten about the arrangement that I had to attend to and was wholly engrossed in this story of his, “after so many centuries of perilous labor, Elijah was given a chance to appeal to his crimes and admit them again, which he denied, yet again. The entire empire shook this time, trying to understand how a person who has done such crimes be so merciless and prude about what he had done. Elijah, however, now put on stands starts to explain the gods who were clearly disturbed about this fact. He goes on to explicate how his actions were directly related to the conditions that were put onto him by man and the gods. He had to do what was right for him, for his survival.” Not agreeing to the argument made, my expressions did make it clear, “-Elijah was of the belief that had his deeds been as bad as they seemed, he wouldn’t have been dead just before the end of the world, which took the lives of everyone, irrespective of their Moral bent and his was a peaceful death, without any burden or pain. And for that, he was happy as it was a blessing in disguise.” As he ended this fable, he took the last sip of his coffee, packed his bag and stood up. He looked down at me and for the first and the last time said “there’s a lot right and a lot wrong in this world and an immensely powerful story behind every such action, the decision to look at an act as an act only or delving deep into it is your call, you have the power to analyze and evaluate each situation, use it well.” and left.