RANDOM THOUGHTS

I sat unruffled on the red stairs that led to the main door of my room.

A huge old two-storied building stood facing me. Painted in pink with yellow ceramic flowers it reminded me of one of my favourite animated movies. A yellow taxi rested gently over the left side of the main road, its headlight was shining in the sun and its glass closed visualizing its relaxation, for the day.

There was not a single soul in sight and at that time of the hour on Sunday how could I even have expected one.

Adding to the perfect scenario were a group of trees standing in a row, the shed of which portrayed an artist’s imagination.

Neither there was a vague advent of breeze nor even the newborn tiny leaves budged. Everything seemed so calm that it felt like I was the only one to be given life in a painter’s sketch. Melancholy was having its day and to discover it as a companion was heart-rending.

?I was hauled in a dark world and slammed with shadow. It's said time heals the wound, but does it really or somewhere something still remains unhealed???

A pen scrolled in between my fingers but no words reflected in my mind. It was like any other Sunday, still, something felt bizarre?

There are stains, stains that refuse to budge, stains that sews together to rule over a sphere undyingly. Their mere dominance stores words, words that can slash one in pieces, notions that can vanish one in darkness in a click of fingers. Every possible attempt dies trying to subdue them.

Every creation of God is gifted equally with the quality of goodness and ruthlessness. Why even dare to gaze at the latter when we can be keen with the other. But does the former ever tender u a good feel?

I chewed the end of my pen while my mind meandered about the entire weirdo that can ever knock my wits. A little ant crossed my way frantically exploring for something.

Oh! How innocent these creatures were! I crawled my right foot to smashed it but an unknown will hindered me. The ant subsequently halted for few seconds and resumed back its journey. Puzzling creatures, more puzzling are their habits. A tinge of benevolence ran through my veins. Something in such a long time made me feel better.

It’s never late to start new but “new” strictly refrains one never to look back.

Just one look behind and the stains come hustling over to you, but can there ever be a future without the past?

When I was lost in my realm of questions, two children came scurrying towards me from nowhere. Oh! Their face! A perfect picture of innocence! Their dress boomed their poverty but their thoughts and imaginations were no way different from other toddlers. Their undressed hair was scenic to look at.

One of the kids sat behind me staring at my pen and paper. A part of him demanded education, which his parents cannot afford. Despite his thrill, despair burns within him. His world, sieved with euphoria but his zeal to study dwelt in his heart.

Their giggling and chuckling echoed in the background, lighting every “blown off” part of the scenario banishing the serenity, giving the painter’s sketch an innovative expression and inviting the breeze that was ceased. They ran bare feet to and fro diving and soaring on their own.

Their mischief! A treat for the eyes! The little birds tossed and fluttered their wings in bliss with the children. For once I got myself engulfed in their world. A world designed with ecstasy, innocence and charisma. Love is all they knew.

Love is all that mattered to them.