When the wrong turn turned right…

It’s  like……. the path crossed me. The wrong path. At the right time.  it’s like the world of possibilities heralding its doors to me, me knowing well that neither of them leads to the opportunity I’ve been searching for. It’s more like anticipating from the wrong clouds to rain gathered  en masse up in the wrong corner  when the met has crucified the chances of it. It’s more like praying the bizarre prayers to the falling stars when you know for certain that no amount of star shower can revive your lost wishes.

How many mistakes does one need to go through to get to the right answer? Don’t I get tired? Why can’t I just choose to ignore results or better  just quit playing once for all so as not to agitate myself looking at the contradictory theories or game-plans that I’ve managed to chalk out in my year book so far? But I cant. Whenever I take the wrong turn it seems to welcome me with its arms thrown wide open, so endearingly, so passionately, so in a way that makes me feel that this is it, that I hastily surrender and that is when exactly I wake up bumping into some same old folly of mine that I thought has ceased to exist in me anymore… and voila … it is the same old wrong mistaken path that I realise I can but should not keep treading along. Trust me. Its not my fault. Had it been deliberate you could have accused me of that. but it wasn’t. How desperate I can now be to prove that little fact that only I know. Because it’s just that I don’t have the perfect alibi that sets me off it I can’t be vilified as well. It may come to you why I choose to take the wrong turn and choose to pass the road sign in the first. But do you really have an answer to why you choose to get freaking drenched in the rain knowing it may cause you a fever, cost you a fortune, bring you the menace of dealing with pneumonia just before your exams or an Office presentation?

I keep rewinding and playing all that has happened in the weird space that we shared. All I get is a little more fizzled out picture of that. I try to hold on to that but it slips out right before my eyes befooling me everytime I try harder. But what I have and will have for sure of all those shares are the memories. They keep getting stronger, strongly founded everytime I try to erase them. So I have given in. no more deleting. Preserve what I’ve got so far. Beautiful girls, cool moments, hot once as well, breezy lone times, crying over spoiled milk, worrying over spilling milk and rejoicing the boiling of it as well. Things went past, some slowly, some faster than I’d expected. But when I look back upon them (this sentence should definitely not insinuate that I am at the edge of my erratic and erotic journey, brooding with shrunken misty eyes for good lord, please) I find a lover in me…who loves to love and loves to be loved… and believe me with all those broken heart pieces that I’ve managed to tape together again and again… I see myself as a hero!

I never loved you

{Sorry folks... i know I never lived up to the blogging thing. I stayed away from this for a long time... actually "long" is a disagreeable term, an understatement. I am actually surprised to see my blog page still persists! They should have nailed me into coffin by now! An apology. (But that does not necessarily mean I would start writing again periodically or seasonally... I will write when I will. huh! this post is a part of something I wrote some times back... it might have had its relevance then... so don't delve into details...)}

I never loved you. I loved your shadow. I saw you on and off. But I see your shadow every time I want to see. 

When you weren’t there I always saw your shadow in mine holding my hand, standing beside me. Even when I ask her to leave she never leaves me. Not like you who cares more about what I speak, not what I meant to. You abandoned me when I appeared foul to you. But that lass, your shadow, instead ruffles up my hair, soothes my bubbles, tempt my love, wins my soulful kindness.  She snuggles up to me in the night, on the bed, in the space between me and my pillow. I hold her close to my chest, rub my nose up her cheek, mop down her apparent exhaustion with my hand brushing up to her fingers, close my eyes, open up my heart, whisper my fear into her ear. But she dispels my every fear, fear of losing you, fear of you getting disarrayed with your commitments, fear for a life without you, fear for a day without you. She said her black robe will always protect me, accompany me even when her living presence will fail to shine upon my life, light up my face.

And see…this is exactly what happening to and in my life. Thanks for lending me your shadow. You are not here… but see, she is looking over my shoulder, at what am I writing at this hour of night.