Sunday, December 20, 2009

"Serendipity" Part - 12

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Part - 12
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(Boys do cry)

Yes Boy’s do cry. They cry in presence of nature. Anything can trigger it. A song, a word, a love, a care, a dream, a destiny, feelings that hurt like anything. Boys do have a heart that cringes and silently dies down with the spasm of pain making it without warning.

The last conversation with her made him to take a deep breathes and then finally ends up with a sigh, long enough for the moon to go through a full cycles of its game of eclipses.

Tears swell in his eyes but it stopped for a moment before bursting out; he thought for the moment as if his tears are worth of the pain he was going through last ten years. He lay curled and bent, like a fetus on his bed with the pillow between his knees. He kept the lights on because the sight of his shaking body was making him comfortable. He found himself not alone in this situation. His saw the site where his thighs stopped shivering when he held it tightly.

He clenched his teeth to keep the commotion down, to keep it all silent and unnoticed. But all his efforts went to vein when he surrenders to his emotions and the pain crawls out as a desperate scream. He bites the quilt; the cry keeps into the thread and cotton and disappeared forever. He wondering with the number of cries it holds in itself, how many screams of angst and pain it holds.

The nails start to etch lines and arches on the skin-thin lines, white, speckled by the broken lines of red, where the nail cuts through the skin. He cried in sobs so as to keep the world at bay. The sobs slowly turn to hiccups and then He whispered "What was my fault?"He looked around, everything looks blurred. Tears, they say, make everything blurred. He wiped them off but they came back again, like they flow from a fountain of perpetuation. Like small rivulets they make their way through his cheeks, leaving wet trails.

The gasps and the sobs, the hiccups, every expression of pain turn them into sputters-mixed with saliva they scatter out of existence.

“I pity myself. I cry because I pity the way I suffer; unknown and unnoticed” he whisperedslowly the body loses its tautness; loosens like an untying noose. There's no need to wipe off the tears or wash my face. It knows how to smile.

He opens the door, lock it and walk with his slippers on. Punching numbers on my mobile, pretending to call someone he walked along the corridor. He switched off the cell.

He reaches to the main gate of the building. The rusted Iron Gate, wet with dew. The moon shines with its brightest of faces. The stars twinkling in a subtle but controlled frenzy. He looked at them, made patterns and rearrange them.

Sky, stars, moon and He



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