Expressions

I allowed the soft, blissful rhythms of the song to wash over me as I approached a comfortable posture and watched outside the window. I could sense the urgency of the wind to force its way inside; I let it brush past me. The dry patches of land were relegated to a brief nothingness as I fixed my gaze on the setting sun, glowing and golden, as the music went on and on. Everything lost its significance and flashed past before my eyes, but the sun stood its stead. I sought bliss, I sought peace then. The yellow, tepid warmth of that moment insinuated deep into the inner recesses of my mind; sought an endless refuge there, as I sat observing at nothing—mindlessly, thoughtlessly, aimlessly.  In the years to come, the swells of the very song would make me revisit that scene, as if the present around me would not endure when the same old warmth would seep out of my own existence. But the memory would contort. The bliss would masquerade as sorrow; the tepidity as coldness. The once-gentle...

  It is a large expanse of meadows all around, with mountains towering over all sides, sky as blue as an overhanging ocean. The lush verdure carpeting all land, continues to wrap all mountains till top in its green. It is bliss. It is alive. The sunrays light the whole scene, bathing it in their freshness and liveliness. An early hour of winter, an early day of spring. Scents, fragrances, without any apparent source, wafting around with the delicate caresses of the breeze. Right in the centre of those vast grasslands stands a man, turning around and registering the heavenly influence of that place, absolutely enraptured. He is blemished, maimed, dishevelled, a victim of a long, demanding, exertive journey. He might break down and fall succumbing to his weight that he cannot carry anymore. He might fly for the atom of brilliance within him yearns to be free. He does fly, levitating upwards, indeed. Tears roll down his face as he is lifted upwards, heavenwards. They leave his scarred...

There had appeared an object high up in the sky, dashing straight towards the cosmos, apparently escaping earth and its dwellers. It was the early hours of a spring day, but the sun was up at the horizon. The air was still cold and fresh. A man, all alone by himself, was sauntering amid a vast field of lush greens that swayed in the morning breeze. He must have noticed that something was odd with the sky that day. He would have confirmed this conjecture had he looked above right then, for the flying object overhead had now grown double its size, accelerating away from its surroundings. That morning, when it dawned, was inarguably the freshest of the season. The man dressed in his local attire continued walking listlessly amid the fields of green stalks. Any living being might have sensed the mysterious entity right above had there been one other than that lone man, for he did not deign to glance skyward; he had his gaze entirely fixed down at his feet, unperturbed, unstirred. Walking s...

The street was a long, interminable stretch of agony, lit sporadically. At one place, an old tungsten bulb lit the gravel pavement, hanging outside an equally old house. A few paces ahead hung an ancient lantern, flickering and dying in its yellow radiance, outside an equally dilapidated shack. Adjacent to it stood a magnificent bungalow that glowed in brilliance under dozens of its lustrous white lights. Nothing of its emanating glow made it to the portion of the street where it stood strong and proud. Somewhere ahead, a shuttered down, closed house had a white bulb lighting its threshold, contributing its part of illuminating the street. It was an unusual street. There were no other smaller streets extending from its main course. It was narrow and claustrophobic. It had no beginning, no end. The buildings that lined its boundaries were all connected with no interspaces. The ending wall of one house marked the beginning of the other. At some places, magnanimous, extravagant structures...

I have been sitting on the balcony for an hour already, bathed in midnight moonlight, gazing deep into the endless horizons. The moon hangs high in the ominous sky, looking like a lone pearl embedded in a dark carpet. An enviable creature, this moon is. When the sun seeks refuge and the darkness ensues, it comes forth to shine its blessings and provide solace for the night. I wish I could vaporize right there and then, become one and the same with its luminosity, so that the sole purpose of my existence is to light up the gloom. Perhaps, doing so may liberate me from this immutable and interminable misery. Perhaps, I may not regret being alive anymore.