Repercussions coughed Out underwater patterns And stratagem bled in Black pepper blood. Civilised yet homologous Myraid Wars Splintered the dreams all Over the Drained mind. I see brilliant dementia I see washed deception.
I entered the class Picked up my marker Turned to write on my white board and Suddenly all the students started laughing. Being curious about it I wanted them to share the reason for their laughter. One girl stood up and said "Sir, don't you know how to walk in rains??!!" And the whole class giggled again. There were mud splatters all over my back. And my black jeans was highlighting them even more.
I guess I really don't know how to walk in rains. Or Maybe I just don't care about how I walk. I want to walk freely and let my slippers be the Picasso painting those mud splatters on my back. I don't care maybe because mom never scolded me for ruining my clothes this way. They ask me astonishingly, "Why aunty doesn't scold you for this?" Now I think that too I wonder why?? She would scold me for many illogical reasons but never for these mud splatters.(maybe she used to do the same)
I really love rains for many reasons. I look up in the sky with my eyes closed, Open them slowly to watch the raindrops falling from the sky, And then Love blinking them like a kid as all these drops try their best not to let my eyes open and I try to conquer them with my eyelashes.
I love rains for many reasons. Whenever it rains, I used to run and grab my notebook to tear out a brand new page from the back side but before I could tear it, mom would come yelling not to waste new pages and replace it with an old newspaper. I would ask her to give 5 more newspapers and then distribute it to all my friends in neighbourhood to give company to my boat racing slowly, competing with all the other boats in gushing streams of water. But today, I realize how a lone paper boat looks like in the middle of calm stagnant water.
I love rains for many reasons. I used to run out into the verandah, dancing goofily on the pitter-patter of the raindrops, come back and stand under the fan shivering like an old lady and would get caught by cold afterwards. And would enjoy the extra care given by my mom taking leave from the school. She would give me soup, rub Vicks on my chest and caress me to sleep. Today, I try to drench myself in rains for hours but now I've turned immune to both cold and care.
My students asked me "Don't you know how to walk in rains?!" I replied, "I have just learned walking"
Well writing about you is kinda difficult, you know I am always bad with words but still I chose "writing" About you, cause somewhere you said you know my silence, you know the words between my spaces, the pain behind my smile, the cracks in my wall. But a question always keep coming back to me, it is teh same question you asked " Why did you chose me over anyone, you could have find anyone, but why still me? " Maybe that time I wasn't able to answer this, but now I found my answer. I chose you cause you made me believe in me. I chose you cause you cared me more than I could ever gad. I chose you cause you brought back the person in me. I chose you cause choosing you was not my option, it was my destiny. Destiny to meet you, to meet myself. But little did we knew, that our fate had something else too. The more we wanted to heal each other, the more we scratched our wounds. The more we promised to stay together, the more we parted. The more we loved each other, stronger the hate grew. Maybe we were so young to know these things, maybe I wasn't destined to be your "the one". Maybe we loved each other so much that we forgot to love ourselves first. And today, here we are. Two strangers with some unreplaceable memories. One year from now, we felt the happiness of meeting each other, and after a year, I'm struggling with the memories of "us". Maybe this was our destiny, to meet but never to stay. To love but also to let go of your love. To laugh and cry at the same time. I know the memories of "us" will never haunt us. It will help us to grow through it. It will teach us to love ourselves first, to make oneself the priority. Maybe we won't meet again. Maybe the ending was not perfect, but please don't think that the love was fake. If it was then it wouldn't have made me write about you, even long after you are gone. I will miss you, but not in a way other people does. I will miss the memories not the person.