To be able to convince myself that I couldn’t do without certain people in my life had been a travesty I had made out of life, I had most certainly dealt with the curve balls life had thrown at me, but I had rubbed it off my back, but who had ever been able to control the urge to not look back? I wasn’t certainly blessed with the ability to put up a brave face, I would rather withdraw myself and hide behind the veil of my words, often try disassociating myself with the reality that existed, but then, for how long could I just pretend?
Amazing it is as to how life can come a full circle, in the end the infinite thoughts which had made my mind their home would boil down to just one: the significance of the very moment, the present and the ordeal to live through and make it count. Although, I hadn’t been an absolute failure at neglecting the past, but nonetheless I would feel a pull so strong at times that I would often unintentionally walk down the alleys of the days bygone, who had ever been able to control the urge? I did, I still do and this shall forever stay, but staying back; stuck where I were: maybe it would take some self coaxing for me stay away.
The hallmark of whatever then seemed beautiful is that it still seems untouched by anything, still as fresh as it were, bathed in the silken glow of someone’s laughter, and to me it is still alluring, it hasn’t lost the magical grip which had once held me captive, perhaps the pull isn’t as strong as what it were, but there’s certainly no fading away of it, looking back: perhaps I’d still trade all the joys of my present and wrap it into a present in exchange for what I had lost, would it still make sense? No, certainly not, but there lies the catch, maybe just a seepage through which I see light, and the past still burns: not in flames rather it warms me up, a cocoon of sorts, the self coaxing can be put to rest for a moment as I slip inside; the realisation overtaken and overpowered by the visuals of what it were. I don’t see a face, formless it is and yet so potent, strong enough to hold the current of my thoughts and change it’s course.
And, I can pretend, pretend it’s all good, the outer self coated with glee and brimming smiles; yet there’s a pull within, and it stretches to infinity, the finite mind unable to trace the origins of it despite knowing it’s all within me. There’s no looking back here, as I seek within; within the very core of myself; inside the bodily cage and the soul that glues it all together: there’s a fire that still burns, the flame of it glowing brighter than ever. It’s time to disassociate again, it’s time to hide behind the veil, it’s time the words flow, and surely there’s no travestying here.
P.S: The veil shall be, it’ll be a shroud someday and hopefully the words will still hold up, the fire within shall douse when it ignites without.
abhishek purkayastha 