Shoumodip Roy's Blog, page 10
May 22, 2019
Episode #1: The IDIOTIC Passion
KEDARKANTHA
a Himalayan Trek Series
Episode #1: The IDIOTIC Passion
“Sir Coffee!” the lady attendant placed a cup of sizzling black coffee on my desk.
I always like my coffee to be steaming such that the moment I sip it, I could feel a pang of burning sensation on the tip of my tongue. The momentarily stinging pain makes me feel human in the mechanically driven corporate life. It makes me aware that I also have a sensation other than the eternal resentment towards the unending race for churning money. It gives me pleasure to punish myself for investing the major chunk of my day in securing someone else’s future while mine peeks at me helplessly from the screen of my cell phone wallpaper. The wallpaper that had found its home on the screen of my mobile for the last couple of years.
***** *****
“Neil, why do you never change your wallpaper?” picking up my cellphone, Misha launched her usual question at me, that somehow sounded more of a sarcastic remark.
“I am too lazy to do that. Plus, who cares? Right!” I tried to hide my real feelings behind the sips of my hot coffee.
“Or! You are too scared to accept the change?” Misha winked at me before getting back to munching her chocolate Brownie.
She had been in my life for a decade now and sometimes her one-liners tell me a lot about myself than what I could ever confront about me.
“Btw Neil! I love the wallpaper.” She flashed her captivating smile giving me a room to breathe and calm my senses. She knew perfectly how sometimes being too introspective can turn you into a pessimist.
***** *****
I sipped the black coffee, smiling to myself as I retreated to the present world from my memories. Unlocking my mobile phone, I stared at that wallpaper while Misha’s voice echoed in my heart. Indeed, I was afraid of change. It is easy to wander within the known territories of the mind but is quite intimidating to meander in the unknown realms of the heart. When you accept what your heart seeks, you become an instrument of change, deluging in a plethora of new emotions and experiences. It is like waking up from the ignorant black and white world to the colorful kaleidoscope of capabilities. Misha knew how to transit through these changes, transforming into a better person at each rung. She knew how to listen to her heart and follow it. Only if I could have learned it from her, that wallpaper would have been a reality for me.
Yet all I did was to shelter my frustration under a safe refuge of sips of hot coffee while the bold letters written on the wallpaper tantalized me, reminding and provoking me with the memories to seek the acceptance.
***** *****
“Neil!”
“NEIL!”
I felt a nudge on my shoulder as the person sitting beside me woke me up from my stupor only to make me realize the yells of the person calling me. The bald brawny man presiding the meeting howled my name for the third time. All of a sudden, I was the point of focus of my boss and of all the members present in the meeting.
“Neil! What is your opinion?” He knew perfectly that I was not listening as I could decipher a sly smirk on his face.
I started to grapple with the sheets in front of me to get a look at what was being discussed. My stammers turned worse. I was caught point blank in the middle of a mass-humiliation. I was lost as always.
“Son!” watching me struggle, he calmly uttered gathering all the softness in his voice.
“I have no use of your fuckin body but only that mind. So, get it the fuck back from wherever it is wandering”
I could only nod to the condescending tone of the boss and gawking eyes of my colleagues.
How could I tell them that with every passing day I get a bit more lost…
lost towards my passion or lost from reality.
With my head hanging down, I kept gazing at the cell phone screen and those bold letters written on the wallpaper absorbed my embarrassment within itself with utmost care…I looked at it as the letters refracted from the screen through a teardrop.
“When Lost, Turn to Mountains”
***** *****
Though the corporate humdrum has rendered my life mundane in entirety, at the same time it has provided me a comfortable corner of my existence. A corner wherein there is a surplus of money and limitless work to keep myself deviated from my “IDIOTIC” passion. Yep IDITIOC is what it was termed when I suggested it to my colleagues.
Have you ever looked at your reflection in the mirror to stare deep into your own eyes?
Well, some fool in his self-help book had mentioned it as one of the ways to peek into one’s soul. When I read it for the first time, I found it extremely silly and in the next second found myself giving it a try. It was so strange that in that foolish act of staring in my eyes, I found the courage to accept the need to mention about my passion to my peers.
***** *****
In the smoke-filled hall of the weekend house party, alcohol was the perfect replacement of water or so to say the best and only ingredient of courage.
Taking a long drag of the hookah, I fell back on the couch and closed my eyes. All I could see was the whitishness of the snow and feel the iciness of the wind pacifying my agitated mind. The cacophony of the complicated questions seemed to slowly fade away as I inhaled the cool gusts within me. It was sheer peace. And all I needed was peace to find me.
“Neil! Your turn”, one of my colleagues, high on inebriation of the nicotine passed the hose of the hookah towards me. It was my turn to tell the group what I wanted to do in my life in the game of “I want…”
Till that moment, I had already heard some of them about their wants…
some for a lavish life, some for a beautiful wife, some for a loving boyfriend, some were confused between Merc and Benz and some were just stuck with Fucks.
I became the center of attention for the moment.
“Neil…come on…speak up your heart!”
I didn’t know what got into me. I had never accepted it until then not even in front of Misha and yet there I was high on my passions.
“I want to become one hell of a Story-Teller. I want to wander in the wilderness. I want to bring stories never ever imagined or heard or felt. I will make everyone feel the emotions through my words….and…” I dragged my slurpy intoxicated voice and ended with…
“and…I will start by finding first MY-story…in the Mountains…”
There was a pin drop silence for a moment. Everyone gazed at me with their flared eyes. It was as if time had been paused for a moment. Then in the next instant, everyone burst with an uncontrolled feat of laughter.
“What will you do of this job?” someone from the back of the group asked
“True…these just sound good in Instagram stories.”
“Such an Idiotic passion.” one of the girls rolled her eyes while giving her expert review.
and thus, my passion got branded as The Idiotic Passion that night.
***** *****
The last sip of my hot-turned-cold coffee drew me back to my office cubicle. I looked at that wallpaper on my cell phone before getting back to my work. A huge snow-capped peak glistened under the bright scintillating sun, making me feel frigidness of the snow as well as the heat of the scorching sun, both at the same time. Imaging myself as standing at the summit, I closed my eyes for few seconds to let the cool windy gusts laden with sweltering snow particles to caress my face. It was just like living my entrapped desire in a vivid memory when a spree of the laughter surmounting my Idiotic passion hauled me back to my desk, marring my passion as Idiotic and taking me back into my cage.
Was it really IDIOTIC?
Maybe a little or maybe a lot. I know to accept it would be to accept my flaws but who can be comfortable in talking about their weaknesses. I have always averted from looking at them. To be honest, I have shut the door on them as I fear accepting their presence would shred my small comfortable bubble world into pieces. But it is also true that closing eyes on my insecurities won’t make them disappear. And maybe that is the reason, I went for this mountain wallpaper for the last couple of years. Staring at the words written on it, made me keep myself linked to a figment of an imaginary world where I didn’t fear accepting my flaws.
What are my flaws?
None different than what a normal person has. Fear of breaking the wheel of predetermined life. Scared of living on my terms based on what makes me happy. For the starters, it’s not money rather peace.
Yes! Peace for my raging soul that screams at me to follow my passion. It is so considerate that even if I am not able to follow it, it just asks me to spare a few moments to at least think about it; a few minutes of full attention to it. Yet I am either too occupied with my present work projects or too tired post-work hours that the only thing I prefer doing is taking a nap and procrastinating my attention for my passion for some later day.
…and THAT DAY till date never came.
I should be ashamed of writing this but I don’t. Maybe there is no shame for a naked person who stands in the crowd of all nudes.
I don’t demean those who love being workaholic or for those who like the normal usual routine of life. I have the rather utmost respect for them for their passion resides in the societal conventional mode of living. They are aware of it and have been gladly following it.
For a person like me who dares to accept their non-synchronicity from the aforementioned life, a general stigma is being passed on by one and all. The branding is that everyone nowadays wants to be a photographer, traveler or blogger. For us, passion has become the most misused word and we throw it at everyone to sound like a cool dude. In reality, I neither have any intention to be that cool person nor have any reason to be one.
I just wish to find myself. I just want to be not lost anymore. I just desire to find peace and calmness at heart and mountains were the antidote to that handed to me by none other than Misha. She has been the epicenter to this typhoon.
**** ****
“Mountains have universally been depicted as a place where you get to find the real person who has been hidden not only from the entire world but also from yourself.” Misha flipped through the pages of a traveling magazine before handing it to me.
She liked to have her tryst in her institute libraries and most often than not sneaked me in. Such dates, unfortunately, turned into pedagogy classes for me. For that reason, I preferred our dates at my place, devoid of any interfering knowledge pieces.
“This is some bullshit travel blogger’s fantasies.” I casually brushed through it with no intention to even read a word form of it.
“Shut up Neil and read it. You will thank me later” she winked at me with her smile.
Damn that smile and the wink. It was the worst recipe for my heart. I pulled her closer while her lips left me with fleeting craving caresses.
**** ****
I read that article the following night, around two years ago, and never even anticipated then, how the coming years would get consumed in the tornado of my inner struggle because of it. It was as if you get a taste of your true identity and then you don’t remain the same anymore since the cravings keep on increasing with an unquenchable thirst.
The article featured how a young mountaineer amidst the hardship in the journey to the summit, was able to find answers to all the questions that his unsettled heart had been troubled with. I was too much drawn to the explicit narration that made me take an imaginary journey along with him. In that ten minutes read of a five-page write-up, I sensed an innate uncanny calmness within myself; something that I had never experienced in the last few years. And so, the mountains popped up as my wallpaper and since then I have been planning every day to gather the courage to go on a trek. Yet the day ends with me only extending it for some time later; just alike to my nature that kept deferring to follow my passions for later.
I have never been to the mountains. Never been on a trek. I did few a college treks but those were more of a pleasure fun group trips focused more towards picnic on the top of a grassy plateau that was not even close to a small hilltop. Moreover, with increasing responsibilities at the workplace, I have been completely inconsistent with my fitness regime and nutritional diets. Seems these are heavy excuses for not going on a trek.
Excuses are our best fake friends. We can’t give them up since in their absence we are again as usual left with no option but to look at our real self in the mirror. That means accepting our flaws and feeling unimportant and insignificant in the human race. So, the cycle repeats and we stick to excuses stronger than ever.
My empty coffee cup looked at me from the desk. My mobile home screen mocked at me once again. My workstation called me as a demanding girlfriend.
Only my heart said to me “It’s okay to let go.”
And as a matter of fact, the universe did present me with an opportunity a week back.
**** *****
Plant shutdown.
General Shift followed by Night Shift.
Coffee cups marathon.
Midnight.
I was looking after the work at the shop floor when my phone vibrated. I was expecting a follow-up message from my superior about the job-progress in the plant. I listlessly glanced on the message and in the next instant, I was wide awake.
Naman
: I have booked a Himalayan Trek.
Wanna join man.
A SOLO TREK?
Naman – the bizarre coincidental friend of mine. I admired his carefree and recluse attitude of enjoying the moment on the go and his fascinations for treks.
Naman:
Take your time. U “Thoughtful-Soul”
PS: I’ve already book’d flights.
So, no excuses 4 me & more for u.
C ya bro.
My heart screamed to grab the chance while the mind went as usual on an analytical mode.
The first hurdle is always the worst one and so I could only reply in…
Me: Will let you know buddy.
.**** *****
I was lost in my conundrum confounded with confusions of my recollections when the cell phone started ringing in my hand. I got startled for a moment.
It was from the same person. Naman.
Oh! How so convenient that I got the call, in the midst of my breakdown.
I wanted to cut the call and go back to my cozy safe nest. I knew what was in store for me if I were to pick it up. Yet my body seemed to unfollow my mind and go for the command of the heart and so I clicked the green telephone icon.
“Hey, Buddy! What’s up man…still drooling in your inability to make a decision?” Naman knew exactly what I had been up to since the last week he mentioned about accompanying him on a 5-day trek to the Himalayas.
It was going to be a solo trek with only him being the person I would know in a group of fourteen other strangers. It was the perfect opportunity to do what I had been planning for such a long time with no fear of being judged of my actions and thoughts.
“Hey, Naman. Yes, Yes I will let you know soon buddy?” I stammered all the way trying hard to hide my indecisive thoughts in my voice.
“Dude. Today is the last date to register. So, do yourself a favor and join me.” he wasn’t ready to give up or was he just let me know how pity he felt for me.
I was silent for a moment listening to the opportunity that was closing its window so soon on me. I wanted to say YES but feared to leave my predictable routined-life. I wanted to go yet the excuses shackled me.
In that couple of second’s silence, I felt a sudden strong anger at myself and at my self-pity state. If I was going to be so feeble to take a stand for what I loved to do, how would I stand for my loved ones? No decision is right or wrong. It’s our ability to take that decision in the first place that is more important. The right part would leave us beautiful memories and the wrong part would leave us with invaluable learnings.
The smiles of Misha filled my heart. The motivating spirit of Naman rekindled my passion. The gawking faces of my colleagues and peers gave me more reason to go for it.
I looked at my wallpaper again and saw a guy screaming from the summit of the mountain and at that moment, I could only say YES.
YES, to THE IDIOTIC PASSION.
YES, to THE MOUNTAINS
कुछ खास लम्हों को याद करके आगे बढ़ रहा हूँ मैं|
शहर के उस कर्कश शोर से दूर भागते हुए,
वादियों के मधुर स्वर को तलाश रहा हूँ मैं|
जब कोई पूछे मेरे बारे में तोह कह देना की
सफरनामा लिख रहा हूँ मैं|
to be continued…
Episode-end Poetry taken from the anthology of Safarnama by Akshay Deora
Read more stories:-
IN CASE YOU WISH TO READ MORE ARTICLES FROM THE FLOATING THOUGHTS
THE UNTOLD SCRIBBLES – Short Stories – Poetry – Guest Submissions – Travelogues – Motivational
GUEST SUBMISSIONS
If you wish to share your stories, please submit your writings here
or mail us at dfloatingthoughts@gmail.com
TO JOIN US;
Like us on Facebook
Follow us on Instagram
COPYRIGHTS RESERVED ©
May 1, 2019
Tick-Tock By Roy & Dee Kay
By Roy & Dee Kay
A thin stream of sweat emerged from underneath the fringes of my hair and trickled down the temple rushing over the edges of the left cheekbone. The cool breeze of the air condition blew it off my face, depriving me of the warmth that I so desperately sought at this moment. I was nervous to the extent of hopelessness. I was scared to the limits of giving up. I was lost to the degree of accepting my fate.
Tick-Tock
The clock broke the silence in the room for a short duration while I listen to the chaos outside the window. The utter silence in the room was slowly creeping onto me. The word ‘fate’ kept resonating in my head. Fate is such a small word yet more than often, it is off loaded with every blame in one’s life though it can perpetually withstand all the accusations.
The door of the room closed with a thud and brought me back from my panic-induced introspective mode to the reality that was awaiting me. A guy, seemingly in his late thirties, walked inside this lavish five-star presidential suite. He slowly manoeuvred towards the king-size bed, where I had been restlessly anticipating someone’s arrival. I could hardly look at him as I kept staring at the wristwatch trying to figure out his next move, or mine.
Tick-Tock
I heard the clock mark its presence again as I finally muttered the strength to look up. I saw him standing at a distance peering at me. The way he inspected me while approaching me, made my stomach to churn inside as if I am just a piece of meat. There was no sense of feeling dwelling within me except one and it was only fear. My heartbeats pounded furiously below the skin and the nervousness summit its peak with every step that he took towards me. I was shivering by now.
I looked up at him as he stood in front of me. The plush upholstery of the bed did not feel comfortable. The incense fresh flowers in the room suffocated me. The luxurious ambiance, of which I had been familiar since childhood, felt alien. The anxious feeling of the past mistakes that led up-to this moment gave me chills. The last hour was unbearable, waiting for his arrival and the next moments were going to be brutal in his presence. Whatever be the outcome, I just hoped that I was ready for him and so I silently looked forward to his next step.
Tick-Tock
The clock screamed so did my mind as he looked around the room, scanning everything with uttermost detail. I was trying to control myself from shivering as so many questions came in my mind. He, then, walked towards the nearby table and pulled the chair in front of me. Applying pressure on the chair with the knuckles of his big fists, he determined the firmness of the cushion.
“This would be better. “ he whispered to himself.
Then he looked at me and directed me towards the chair.
“I want you to do everything exactly as I tell you. We don’t need to rush through this.”, he said with a smile while I followed his instruction like a lamb. I didn’t want to be there nor did I want his company all alone in that room but destiny played its game alongside fate. And so, I ended up in that hotel room with a complete stranger, who stood glancing at me from head to toe. I got up very slowly and carefully sat on the chair.
“I…”, I was about to say something but he shut me down.
Tick-Tock
The clock made me nervous while his eyes only got bigger. I could feel his gaze coming down from my face to my chest as another drop of sweat trickled down my nape. He bent his knees and came on his haunches, sitting a few inches away from me. He was so tall that even on his haunches he was almost leveling my height. I could see the immense confidence in his eyes as if he was some sort of a veteran in his job and had done that hundreds of time.
“You are in the safe hands.” He said with a smirk on his face.
I flinched as his reply made me jittery. His stares moved down so did my hope. I could see in his eyes the determination and the will that he wants to complete his work. I took a deep breath when I heard the clock tick again.
Tick-Tock
I don’t remember the last time I ever paid heed to the ticking sound of the clock as I looked at my wristwatch. With each passing moment, I can see his stares getting intensified as if he is not looking at me but looking within me to find that vulnerability. I need to divert my mind or else I will not be able to perform the way he would like me to do. It’s funny how one can be in a situation like this and his mind be so calm and compose.
He is intimidating. His silence is creeping me out.
He reminds me of my ex-boyfriend. Wait! What? Why am I even thinking like that? I need to kind my strength, not the weakness lurking in the dark corners. I cannot be weak in front of him. He shouldn’t see me like this. Just as I was thinking, he moved his chair really close to me.
“Deep breathes… Deep breathes…”, I told myself as he continued looking at me.
Tick-Tock… The clock made the sound as I tried to divert away from this place.
My ex…… My mind drifted back to him.
As I was trying my best to keep my mind busy, I felt this man’s hand on me. A chill ran up my spine as he began to disarm my defenses. His hand moved on my neck as he brushes off my hair from my shoulders. My breathing started to increase with each touch of his while my mind pushed me into the time zone when I was with my ex in a similar room.
That day my ex was paying more heed to my body than my spirit. His hands moved all over me while our lips met for the first time. I don’t know why but that day everything was just too much for me to grasp as I tried my best to enjoy the moment though I just couldn’t. He was not a bad person though he wasn’t perfect either. He would do the most romantic things and later he would also fight with me on the smallest ones. His big brown eyes were pretty when he used to trace my curves with them.
Wait!! The man in front of me also has brown eyes. I can see it now as he sits so close to me. His breath is impassive and his face is relaxed. Why am I thinking like this?
He moved his hand to my shoulder as I anticipated his touch. His warm hands were on my drenched shoulder. I closed my eyes. He slowly leaned in as he put his hands around my neck, removing the necklace that I wore. I could feel the roughness of his hands against my soft skin as his fingertip seems to trace its way down my arms and onto my wrist. He took his time to remove the wristwatch and other ornaments.
I was still breathing heavily when once again I went back in time to the moment when my ex’s hand moved to my back. He slowly tried to unzip my dress while still sensually kissing me. I wanted to enjoy that moment as it would have been my first but there was a fear inside that just wouldn’t fade away. I was reminiscing when I saw the man in front of me remove the jacket from my shoulders. He is being gentle while my heart is racing and my mind is getting blank. He touches the bare skin, accidentally or not, I can feel his fingertip caressing my body as he removes the jacket.
Tick-Tock, another minute pass by as I open my eyes. He is still staring down on me as he gets up to stretch his arms before he could dwell down on me. I was mentally preparing myself for the decisive moment. Just as he moved the chair and his hands moved on me, he looked me straight in the eyes. For a moment and just for that moment, I forgot where I was and what was about to happen. I was lost in his calmness.
“It’s time.”, he said breaking my trance and bringing me back to the reality.
I closed my eyes in those split seconds I saw myself standing there in front of my ex and telling him, ‘no’. I do not know how I ended up from there to here sitting in front of this stranger as he disarms the jacket away from me. His hands moved slowly towards the vest wrapped around me. He examines the wiring around the vest as he occasionally touched my hand to brush some of his placid composure over me. It was the first time I notice that he’s been shot in the back and have lost plentiful blood. I wanted to tell him but he is the one with the injury so I guess he already knows about it. He took a deep breath as he pulled out few wires from the bomb lad vest.
Tick-Tock,
The final minute began of the timer that was strapped on my chest. The bomb was ticking its final minute. The pool of the blood of the dead terrorist made its way through the gap of the front door. Few soldiers stood at the entrance, hoping for all of us to make out of the hotel alive. There was a lull in the ambiance, cries and shouts from the lobby had already faded. The gunfires that I kept listening for the last few hours had died down. The noise of ruckus has transformed into silence. It was just us in that vacated hotel and those few soldiers outside in the corridor. Even with all the terrorists dead and all the people evacuated, with no casualty, the army wasn’t going to say this their win until the bomb that lay fastened to my chest was diffused. It was all in the hands of the person clad in an olive green uniform, sitting in front of me.
My mind raced against time as it showcased the entirety of my life in front of my eyes; the good, the bad, and the worst in a single montage of memories. He was sweating now as he was in the same race as I, though he had two lives in his hand unlike me. I am the one responsible for this situation and if it didn’t work out then I would be responsible for his fate too. I really didn’t mean this to happen nor did I wished to be the reason for this yet life played his greatest tricks on me.
I could see a slight tinge of hesitation in his eyes. I guess this is the unavoidable antecedent to the faith that follows next. I held his right fist that clutched the switchblade hoping to transfer the trust that had helped me survive the tick-tocks of the timer till that moment. Maybe my trust would help him cope with the initial reluctance. He looked into my eyes, one last time as his fingers slashed the wire.
His eyes spoke a thousand words or maybe it was mine. I noticed as a smile carved on his face. Maybe he didn’t want me to have the last memory of life as a blank face but rather a smiling one or maybe it was his own last wish to depart from the world with a smile on his face. I smiled as tears roll down my eyes. This was the moment. This could be either my life’s final chapter or the beginnings of a transformed one.
He slashed the wire in one go.
Tick…
The timer said at last…
Read more stories:-
The Girl Who Taught Me How To Dream – Part 2
The Girl Who Taught Me How To Dream – Part 3
GUEST SUBMISSIONS
If you wish to share your stories, please submit your writings here
or mail us at dfloatingthoughts@gmail.com
IN CASE YOU WISH TO READ MORE ARTICLES FROM THE FLOATING THOUGHTS
THE UNTOLD SCRIBBLES – Short Stories – Poetry – Guest Submissions – Travelogues – Motivational
TO JOIN US;
Like us on Facebook
Follow us on Instagram
COPYRIGHTS RESERVED ©
April 27, 2019
The Black Diary #10 : The Last Cigarette
Male/27/Anonymous
The fading spark of the cigarette brights up as I take another long drag contemplating the future that I’d like to have, or at least wants. The cold night breeze flirts with my hair while the partially clouded sky bestow upon myself the past of the cosmos as I marinate in my addiction, one last time. Headphones on my head makes it easy for me to escape the reality of a decade of abuse that I had unleashed upon me.
“How much do you smoke?”, I remember the question asked by a close friend on a similar night and all I could do was come up with a lie.
“A pack.”, I had said with a straight face though the truth was way different as I smoked more than 2 packs a day. That’s around 20 to 25 sticks in less than 16 hours.
I always thought that I smoke because I like it but it’s hard to cone in term with the reality that I am just like other addicts who would come with any delusional reasoning to continue their addiction. I suddenly got into a fit of cough as I brainstorm the past, the present, and the uncertain future. How could I let myself stoop so low in my own bloody life? I don’t even remember the last time I ran and didn’t have to stop because I was out of breath rather than getting tired. I let myself slip away for the worse as I take another drag from the dreadful pleasure.
“I need to quit.”, I told myself for the hundredth time though the past track record makes this look like yet another hollow promise.
The more I think the more I hate myself as there is at even an ounce of self love left within me. This got to be the first time ever since my depression days that I have concluded to hating myself. Depression was the phase when I picked up the first cigarette and depression is where I am heading if I continue walking down this path. It is not going to be easy just like the failed attempts in past but I need to stay away from this. I drag the last puff as it was time to say goodbye to the best relationship of my life that would eventually would kill me. I am like the bug that can’t stay away from the flames but will surely die if I fly too close. That’s what I feel at this moment but the only difference is that, in reality, I am not just mere bug but a man with a rational brain.
So, it’s time to exercise the rationality.
I threw the dead bud of the cigarette down as I crush it for one last time. The relationship might have ended but the healing is yet to begin as I step away from the crashed cigarette bud. It is embarrassing as to how one can romanticize such an unhealthy habit but then that’s what a storyteller does, play with words. I guess it is better to play with words than to play with my life.
Thus, I begin the torturesome journey of life without relying on any drug. I call it quits. Peace out as I take a nap with some pride still intact.
Read more :-
GUEST SUBMISSIONS
If you wish to share your stories, please submit your writings here
or mail us at dfloatingthoughts@gmail.com
IN CASE YOU WISH TO READ MORE ARTICLES FROM THE FLOATING THOUGHTS
THE UNTOLD SCRIBBLES – Short Stories – Poetry – Guest Submissions – Travelogues – Motivational
TO JOIN US;
Like us on Facebook
Follow us on Instagram
COPYRIGHTS RESERVED ©
April 17, 2019
The Drop By Roy & Dee Kay
By Roy & Dee Kay
*** ***
The local train rumbled into the destination station, amidst the huddle of the overcrowded platform in the morning rush hours. The train halted abruptly unbalancing me from my position and making me lean closer to the girl; my girl. The sudden proximity to her, out in the open, made me feel conscious of us just like the time when I had taken her on a date for the first time, five years ago. Due to my extreme alertness to all the imaginary eyes ogling at our tryst, I had completely forgotten to enjoy the closeness yet I still could not help myself from experiencing the same feeling whenever we got closer in any public place.
The grip of her hand tightened on my shoulder to prevent her from falling and with the other hand, she intentionally squeezed my fingers that lay entwined in hers. She always knew the extent of my consciousness from the closure and so that warm clasp of her fingers in mine was enough to replace it with a comforting relief. I smiled at her to which she curled her lips, seductively. How did I get so lucky? My mind asked. She was like the composed ocean, that could hide the internal mess beneath a calm surface while I was just like a rocky shore that never failed an excuse to get unsettled by an approaching wave.
The hustle of the crowd around us could no more draw me away from staring at her pretty face. With the clock ticking, the faster the moments slipped by, the firmer became the grip of our fingers. The closeness has its own language of acknowledging every feeling without requiring anything to be said out loud. At that instant, our entangled reluctant fingers, the soul gazing eye-stares, the momentarily flirtatious smiles, and the protective unintentional caress, exuded the immense care for each other while creating an everlasting bubble of love around us. I knew that in the next few movements I would have to let go of her. It was her station. This part of the morning was the moment I hated the most.
The train blared for its departure from the station and a few more passengers stepped out in the platform. She smiled again, gesturing me to let go of her hand. I smiled unblushingly, showing no intention of doing so. She shook her head. I imitated her action, making her laugh a little more while the last passenger rushed out of the train compartment.
“Let go!”, she finally spoke as it was my turn to shake my head and hers to imitate.
I set her hand free from my loving grip as she playfully giggled while disembarking the compartment.
“You forgot to say goodbye“ I shouted from behind, trying to concoct an excuse to change her mind. She turned towards me without slowing her pace only to reply with one of her sensuous smirks.
As she made her way away from me and towards the exit, I began to look for a seat to put myself in. I made myself comfortable in a nearby vacant window seat and looked outside the window, at the swarm of strangers yet searching for the one I called mine. Everyone seemed either rushing towards something or running away from everything. In the midst of the crowd, I saw a familiar figure standing still like a statue, immovable and affixed, just at a little distance from the train.
She turned towards me and the look on her face replaced my pulsating beats by a deadly pause. Her forehead cringed in nervousness while her eyebrows furrowed in sheer apprehension. The slow movement of her lips was calculating something, over and over again, only to reach the same conclusion. It was as if she had stepped into a minefield and the slightest of motion could result in a blast of embarrassment and shame.
She was petrified.
The familiar look, the recognizable expression, the usual fear, and the same bundle of unspoken emotions all those had been indelibly locked away in some unforgotten corners of my heart, waiting to be brought back to surface by the wheels of my unfinished and failed attempts. Now, I was there, staring at my girl, hoping to rescue her from the shackles of self-guilt.
The whole echo of noises around me began to fade away as those revealing eyes gazed through me, penetrating my soul, and dragging me into the past. Years before I knew her, years before my present relationship, years before when the first girl I got intimate with became my girlfriend.
That familiar look snatched me from reality and dropped me into my old apartment. I found myself standing beside the bed and looking at a younger version of me sleeping beside a beautiful girl; my first crush and love. All of a sudden, she woke up with a startle. She must have had a bad dream but the reality for her was much more than just a nightmare. I woke up to realize her standing at the side of the bed looking at the red drops that slowly were being soaked and spread over the bedsheet as I spotted it too.
Not just a stain on the bed but also on her self-esteem.
I watched her getting petrified to the fact that she was in her boyfriend’s room and her monthly cycle came unannounced. The familiarity between what is a natural occurrence and the taboo that the society has forced on her was hurtful. The younger-me sat on the bed confused as to what I could do but more as to why she had to feel such a pang of guilt.
I saw our eyes make contact for a brief moment before she ran outside and the young-me followed her. She hastily picked her handbag from the couch and rushed towards the washroom. He followed her with the same pace only to stop at the bolted door. I saw the utter helplessness in him. He rushed to help but she ran from shame. He wanted to tell her but she had been taught well by society to hide away. He wanted to scream that it was normal but she was forced to believe, since an early age, that it was far from acceptable.
There were millions of things he wanted to say as his thoughts shot all around from his heart to mind, with the speed of light. He wished to say that he understood her position…that it was alright if she did not know how to react…that all he wanted was to make her open the door so that he could hug her and tell her that it was okay…
I wanted to show that his heart only wanted to restore the belief that her period was as natural and pure as his love was for her. But all he could say was,
“It’s okay.”
Finally, she unlatched the door and stood facing him with a teary smile. The young me took her at once in an embrace. She broke down in his arms. He just held her tight and secure, assuring her with his silence that those drops are what that build self-esteem and not the other way round. It’s not a vulnerability rather nature’s way of showing how stronger it created a woman to be.
It is hard to fathom why a man does not have to be sorry for being a man but a woman has to feel guilty for being a woman. I was content to see my younger self to give her much-needed courage in her weakest moment. Yet it was within those four walls, safe from the ever-judgemental eyes of society. I kept thinking how I would have pacified her lest it were to happen in a public place while being pulled away from the old bedroom and back to the seat of the local train, by the wheel of time.
With a little push, the train moved and so did my mind into the memory lane. I was back in the existing time and my eyes continued staring at my girl’s face. The train gained a couple of centimeters as I saw her moving away while my gaze was fixed at her face; her face that was now drenched in sweat and tears. Every tear has its own story and journey. Some are of joy and happiness that make their way over the mountain of cheek bestowed by the smile from ear to ear, some are of anxious nature as they make their way speedily before anyone could see, and then there are few of fear and sadness that hit the plains of the face caused by the disheartened feeling inside.
I have known those tears for a long time. Those tears are not of pain or sadness but rather of fear, as my thoughts took me back into a school bus. I stood looking at my teen-self sitting next to my best friend. She was scared and had tears rolling down her face as I was struggling to help her. Why was I not able to do anything? I asked myself with no answer to this question. I couldn’t see her cry and I did not know how to help, either. I took out my handkerchief and gave it to her. She looked at me with her droopy eyes in confusion. I did not know what she would do with it but all I wanted was to be of some help.
I felt a push as I came back to the present yet my thoughts were stuck in the past. My hand unintentionally went into my pocket as I touched my handkerchief, realizing how an inept handkerchief had the power to transform into an immense token of strength and support.
I took a deep breath as I saw her diminish away on the platform while the train gained more distance. The last thing I could see of her was the trembling hands as my mind recalled the first experience with that situation. The wheel of age churned again, hauling me far back into my childhood.
I saw my 7-year old version running towards the washroom on hearing the cry of my sister. Rushing towards the door, he saw his sister standing inside looking scared with eyes full of tears and trembling hands. Then a drop fell on the floor as I noticed the blood stain on her skirt and the blood slowly trickling down her leg.
I was scared and shouted for our mother who came running inside. She accessed the situation and asked me to go out yet I did not want to leave my sister in this situation. I did not understand what was happening but I was the man of the house so I had to protect her. That was the promise I made to my father on his deathbed.
“Go out.”, maa’s patience ran out as she held my hand and pushed me out, closing the door behind her. I bang on the door and pleaded to her to let me help. I did not know how but I just wanted to be of some help. Minutes passed as she came out and looked at me. I was crying and, why wouldn’t I? I just saw my elder sister in a bloody state. I asked her if my sister would make it out alive or will she too join dad in heaven. Maa looked at me with a smile as she wiped my tears and kissed my forehead. Then she said something that stayed with me even after so many years, she said
“A girl has to offer some blood every month to the gods so that one day she too can have a kid like you.”
It didn’t make much sense to the 7-year-old me as I questioned the God who was asking for blood so that I could make him/her stop this. My mother smiled and told me that one day I would understand it.
Yes, I do understand this now but I still do not understand the taboo around it. I noticed the train slowly gaining speed so I pushed a few people around so as to get back to my girl. Many shouted and screamed as I finally made it to the door. I looked at her still frozen at that spot looking in my direction. I wish I could make her understand that I do not want her to be fearful of those stains because I was there to protect her from all those unwanted stares. Just as I was trying to come up with things to say to her someone pushed me while I was about to step onto the platform from the moving train. I fell on the floor and saw her flinch a bit but she couldn’t move.
I got up and slowly ran towards her. I could see in her eyes the fear of the people and their stares. I could see in her eyes the embarrassment and shame she felt not because of who she is but rather cause of the environment we humans have created around this. As I came closer to her, I removed my jacket and leaned in to give her a kiss on her cheek as I wrapped my jacket around her waist. She immediately scummed into my embrace as I, for once, was able to help someone before they crumbled due to the immense pressure of the social norms. I was happy as I protected her from the stares of the people so lost in their definition of acceptance that they have forgotten that periods are natural. She looked at me with her big teary eyes as I said,
“You don’t even know how to say goodbye to your boyfriend.”
She smiled.
Dedicated to all the ladies around the world
Read more stories:-
The Girl Who Taught Me How To Dream – Part 2
The Girl Who Taught Me How To Dream – Part 3
GUEST SUBMISSIONS
If you wish to share your stories, please submit your writings here
or mail us at dfloatingthoughts@gmail.com
IN CASE YOU WISH TO READ MORE ARTICLES FROM THE FLOATING THOUGHTS
THE UNTOLD SCRIBBLES – Short Stories – Poetry – Guest Submissions – Travelogues – Motivational
TO JOIN US;
Like us on Facebook
Follow us on Instagram
COPYRIGHTS RESERVED ©
April 16, 2019
In search of Myself: The Beginnings by Roy
It was a cool evening. A gush of wind brushed past me, heightening the fragrance of her expensive perfume and carrying me away onto the waves of my thoughts. I sat there transfixed into her blue eyes, making plans to ask her out when suddenly a voice nearby roared, hauling me back to the reality.
“Mr. Roy. You haven’t answered even a single question till now. How do you expect me to consider you for the promotion with your ominous silence? Still, based on your past record and on request of Ms Riya I am being the most understanding person you can ever get.”
he paused to look at the lady sitting beside him, flashing a wacky smile while trying for flirtatious one.
In an instant, those words shattered my castle of plans for the evening date and drew me back into the interview session.
The interviewer switched off the air-conditioner and thus no more gush of breeze and no more waves of thoughts to surf on. I was back in there in totality. The interview had already taken the road to a nightmare and my blatant stare at his pretty colleague had added fuel to the fire.
I fumbled with my words, searching for the appropriate ones. That promotion was necessary for me yet I didn’t know why I was sitting there tongue-tied and making plans for an imaginary date. Maybe I was too confident that my performance record was enough for my selection and getting the girl or maybe I was waiting for an excuse to be thrown out.
Seeing my confused look, the lady turned towards me. Interrupting her colleague, she drew my attention towards her by speaking in her softest tone.
“Roy! Life is a fast-paced slide show. Tell me your story slides so that we can help you design your future career slides.”
She grinned at me. Her voice made a smooth cut through my heart…a cut that was smoother than an unidentifiable cut that a hot knife makes through a butter cake. Her statement pulled me into a fast-paced of my life’s show.
*******
It was indeed a challenging question since the answer always comes in as a blend of tears and smiles…one that requires you to walk down the memory aisle and relive the failures and success…the disappointments and happiness…the losses and winnings…
For me, it was a tryst of a 3-year old version with that of a 25-year old, including all the other ones between them. A rendezvous that made me realize how far I have walked on, away from my innocent childhood and my rebellious teenage to composed adolescence. It seemed just yesterday when I held my mother’s soft hand and took my first few steps, before falling into her arms; when I sat on the bicycle with father and stopped each day on the way to school before a sweet shop, buying ladoos for my small lunch box.
In any Bengali family, the members become overly cautious, overly protective and overly concerned for their child and so mine was no different. Few things that I still recall vividly included the delicious “hot aalo parathas” cooked by my aunt, grandma’s bedtime stories and grandpa’s constant reminders for studies.
Moreover, my parents are brilliant artists and I grew up around the fascinating paintings and wondrous sculptors created by them, a colorful childhood surrounded by colors and paints. Often my father used to sit with his large drawing canvas and I sat beside him with my tiny paint boxes and brushes, emulating his styles and sketches. However, in the end, it was my painting that was adored by my family members…
I grew up so soon that I didn’t realize it was time for me to leave my cozy nest and walk into the real world all by myself. I passed boards with decent percentage and had to leave home for higher studies. I moved to a city bigger than my birthplace. A city that seemed to be exclusively for would-be doctors and engineers with so many hostels and coaching classes. All of those promising in their unique way to help you crack your exams. Thus a new chapter started in my life, wherein I joined the existing race of becoming an engineer, burdening myself with tuitions and mock exams and struggling to secure a seat in one of the prestigious engineering colleges.
Your status came to be known by your AIRs(All India Rank) and your fan followers were defined by your performance in AITS(All India Test Series). Almost no time to think of your hobbies or even to take a pause to enjoy, I kept trying to match pace with my friends amidst this. Frequency of phone calls to my family decreased and that to my friends increased. My daily event log became the dinner topics of my family and I transformed as their precious memento. Time flew and I became an engineer at last.
However, the college was nothing as compared to what I had felt in the past two years. The best days of life just began. A college teaches you a lot of things in life. I believe my readers would agree with me on this. It starts first with the distortion of your names, especially if your name is too large to be pronounced. Second, it improves your vocabulary by making you learn only a handful of selected words, really impactful words, that could explain all kinds of emotions on earth; right from expressing frustration when ragged by a senior to publicizing the happiness when your friend request is accepted by the girl you have a crush on. Third, you get friends-true friends-friends for life. Such friends who would neither leave you to bathe in peace nor let you write the exams alone, motivating you in doing all the absurd and silly things. Your motto of life becomes…“LOAD na le…PEACE mar” …and it comes in handy to pacify you in any situations…
Midnight Maggies. Group studies just before the day of exams. Endless bike rides. Celebration of Holi in the puddle and that too in torn clothes. Festival of cultural and technical fests. “Hard wala roti and Pani wala dal” in the canteen. Your first dates and finding for the next in case of rejection. A new style of birthday celebrations with GPL making your buttocks as red as hot iron. Placement tensions in interviews. Job happiness on being placed. Farewell Tears and Dreamy eyes.
All these marked the journey of countless memories and innumerable learnings of my college life.
This beautiful phase led me to the threshold of the corporate world, a new life, a responsible life. An opportunity to use your skills for the greater good and in return you get to enjoy a peaceful Sunday Sleep. The wardrobe metamorphoses from holding casual dresses to perfectly ironed formals and an alarm clock at your bedside. Your cellphone becomes an annoying friend bringing calls more of your Boss than from your loved ones. You become busy like everyone and once again the race continues…
*******
I was lost in my thoughts when all of a sudden the interviewer shouted, a wave of effervescent anger filled his face, ” Mr. Roy, Do you plan to answer Ms. Riya’s question anytime soon now… Please?” He added please with corporate sugary coatings on his frustrations.
Instead of floundering, I calmly turned to face the lady interviewer and asked, ”Ma’am if you don’t mind, May I say something?”… She smiled and gestured me to proceed.
” A pretty face like yours once said to me the exact same thing but in a different way. Rather than pushing me to design my future slides based on what society wants, she wanted me to compose them based on what my heart wanted.
I believe the question you asked, made me realize what all slides I wish to behold in my life…So, Thank you so much for asking. For now, I know that this is not what I wanna put on my next slide.”
With that said I stood up from the seat, replying her surprising look with my fearless confident smile. Turning away from them, I made my way towards the exit. Just as I was about to leave the hall, I gave a fleeting look at her and found her looking amused in her amazement. I, then, looked forward and crossed over the threshold. A threshold that had confined me away from my real world.
I believe we are so engrossed in this universal race that we are unaware of what we really want to do. Even though it may sound a cliché to you but my reader…
“just for a moment take a pause…don’t panic…let others continue the race…anyway no one is going to win it…think what lies in your heart…feel what you really love to do…collate what all slides you actually wish to behold…”
Read Part#2: In Search of Myself: The Struggle by Roy
Read Part #3: In Search of Myself- The Acceptance: by Roy
IN CASE YOU WISH TO READ MORE ARTICLES FROM THE FLOATING THOUGHTS
SHORT STORIES – POEMS – GUEST POSTS – TRAVELOGUES – MIDNIGHT MUSING – YOUR STORY – MORNING MOTIVATION
TO JOIN US;
Like us on Facebook
Follow us on Instagram
COPYRIGHTS RESERVED ©
April 14, 2019
come back…to us!!! by Roy & Dee Kay
Dearest Love,
I stared at those waves that rushed towards her…played with her feet…wetted her skin. The smiles…the happiness…the excitement…were as fresh as the early morning breeze. The world was reduced to the single vista of her playful and naughty tryst with the waves. She danced…jumped…dived into her own ocean of imaginations. The sun watched her festivity from the sky and lit the whole sky with the bright rays. I knew it wanted to join the party, too. However, I relished the sight from a distance, sitting on the beach, secretly storing all those lovely moments.
All of a sudden, she turned towards me and gave the world’s cutest smile…
“Daddy…come on Daddy… ” waving her small hands, she kept on calling…until I had no option other than to walk towards her…
Just like I had no option other than to have fallen for you…
She has always reminded me of you…she is a little version of you…no less and all more. I feel fortunate to have been given a chance to experience the adorable affection again, in form of her. Never a day passes when I don’t think about you…when I don’t remember you…when I don’t feel you…Now, she keeps you among us, through her innocence.
Our house reverberates with your favorite songs from morning till evening…her wardrobe has turned into a mini version of that of yours…her passion for shoes has been giving a stiff competition to your collection. The previous day she ran into the room and gave me the task to get her hairs braided as you used to. I had to silently comply with her sweet command. The same evening, she sat in the kitchen, watching me cook and throwing her expert directions at me. For a moment, I thought I would have found you standing beside her, in case I had turned. I wanted you to be with us so badly that I might have added some extra salt, surely, to the dish with those unstoppable tears. Sometimes, I guess I am the one who is being looked after instead of being the opposite. Though she is just nine years old, her old man is the one who is turning into a kid.
I hope I can give her your share of love and affection…But this journey with her seems incomplete without you…Though I am lost when you are not around, I won’t let you disappear…I have not given up on you baby…never will…so, please…
Be with us…Believe in us…
We will bring you back…we will wake you up…we will guide you back…
We love you so much…
They walked from the beach towards the hospital. Entering the ward, the little girl ran towards a young woman who lay asleep on the bed, with numerous machines beeping all around her. She kissed the pale face of her mommy and kept the letter on the table near the tulip vase. The guy sat beside his love and watched his daughter as she enthusiastically narrated all about her previous day happenings, detailing each and every activity and complaining about her daddy. Even though she knew it was a monologue, her excitement on having the conversation with her mommy didn’t tune down a notch.
The nurse entered the room as they left. She carried out her daily routines and check-ups. Thereafter, she picked up the letter, as usual,…sat on the chair…read it again and again until the whole page was wet with her tears. Finally, she opened the cupboard, placed the letter inside and left the ward.
…and inside the cupboard, the letter lay silently on top of the other 364 envelopes…
Read more stories:-
The Girl Who Taught Me How To Dream – Part 2
The Girl Who Tauglaboro Dream – Part 3
GUEST SUBMISSIONS
If you wish to share your stories, please submit your writings here
or mail us at dfloatingthoughts@gmail.com
IN CASE YOU WISH TO READ MORE ARTICLES FROM THE FLOATING THOUGHTS
THE UNTOLD SCRIBBLES – Short Stories – Poetry – Guest Submissions – Travelogues – Motivational
TO JOIN US;
Like us on Facebook
Follow us on Instagram
COPYRIGHTS RESERVED ©
April 13, 2019
The Girl Who Taught Me How To Dream Part – 4
The GIRL who taught me how to DREAM – Part 1
The Girl Who Taught Me How To Dream – Part 2
The Girl Who Taught Me How To Dream Part – 3
Dear Trisha
I dreamt of you.
In my dreams, I saw your unblemished face beaming at me. You hairs were caressing my face and your captivating fragrance was exploding over my senses. The svelte figure of yours was wallowing in my cuddles while your sleek skin was mollifying the ruggedness of mine by momentarily grazing over them. I held your hand and intertwined my fingers with yours, never to let go of you again. I gripped the clutch with all my strength yet making sure I don’t hurt you and all you did was smile at my childish tenacity. You came closer to me and nuzzled at my nose before planting a kiss on my forehead. Then you came near to my ear and whispered something.
It seemed as if I could listen to your murmur clearly. But the instant you completed your sentence, I woke up only to find the dark night staring back at me. You were not there beside me anymore, baby, yet I could feel that fragrance of yours. My hand lay bare, desolate and untangled and yours was nowhere to be seen yet the softness of your grip was still warm in it. Your kiss on my forehead seemed to be dried up with the culmination of my dream yet I could feel the dampness of your moist lips over it. Though it was just a trance, everything appeared vivid to me. The only thing that I could not recall was what you whispered to me. I pushed my mind hard to recall but failed to even recollect in bits the things you said.
The inability to remember them was driving me crazy. I got up from my bed and went outside on my porch. I sat on the hammock chair – your favorite place to hang out when you became nostalgic or wanted to have a soulful conversation with yourself. You may not know this but I always used to stand at the door and watch you swinging in that chair with a glass of white wine in your hand while your eyes remained fixated to the moon. Sometimes it made me jealous of how you opened your heart to that faraway moon as it winked back to you always.
Midnight was still too young to be sheathed with the approaching dawn and so I had few minutes left to have a short tryst with your moon. I stared at the whitish glow of its incandescence and played the dream again in extremely slow motion to remember what you had muttered to me. I could see the movement of your lips, the rise and fall of your heart beats and the gasp in your breaths. I was in your reverie once again; only this time I had the company of your moon to keep your imageries from vanishing. As you were about to drift away, I saw the moon to wink at me, making me realize that I now remembered every word that you had whispered to me…
I smiled to myself. You were so adamant with my bucket list that you were not going to let me take a break from it. You would even remind me of them in my dreams. My smiles started to convert into giggles and finally ending up in a burst of laughter. You really are
are enjoying watching me from above while I complete that to-do list of yours that you left behind for me.
I got up from the chair and entered the house, making my way towards the attic above our bedroom. I pulled down the folding ladder and stepped in that small space. The whole area was cluttered with boxes. At one corner of the room, I found the bag I was searching for. It was covered in dust as it wasn’t opened since you passed away. I picked it up and sat on the floor. Through the small window of my attic, the moon kept following me. I blew the dirt from the bag before unzipping it and uncovered the guitar that lay in slumber inside it. Holding the guitar in my hands, I instantly felt you sitting beside me. The guitar held some of the indelible memories of our love story. I strummed the chords, letting away a raucous melody from those out of tune strings.
I smiled at the moon who reflected its glow over me, assuring me that you were beaming at me from above while I sat there playing the favorite song of ours.
one more task accomplished…
and with it a bit of my lost-self found back to me…
beholding the love and reminisces of …
you & me…
I love you baby
I miss you, baby,
I will always
yours
Kai
(We love to hear from you so do leave us your honest feedback. Thank you.)
To read the first two parts of the series, Read Below:
The GIRL who taught me how to DREAM – Part 1
The Girl Who Taught Me How To Dream – Part 2
The Girl Who Taught Me How To Dream Part – 3
INTERESTED TO READ SIMILAR POSTS…CLICK BELOW
GUEST SUBMISSIONS
If you wish to share your stories, please submit your writings here
or mail us at dfloatingthoughts@gmail.com
INCASE YOU WISH TO READ MORE ARTICLES FROM THE FLOATING THOUGHTS
THE UNTOLD SCRIBBLES – Short Stories – Poetry – Guest Submissions – Travelogues – SoulTalks – Fairy Tale Series
TO JOIN US;
Like us on Facebook
Follow us on Instagram
COPYRIGHTS RESERVED ©
April 10, 2019
The Cord by Roy & Dee Kay
by Roy & Dee Kay
Her lips slowly curled towards her ears, flashing the depressions on both the sides of her cheeks. The look on her face was alien to me yet it filled my heart with warmth. The rhythmic beats that were outrageously pounding under my skin at once relaxed into soft palpitation. I felt an uncanny feeling of sanctuary and a comforting promise of togetherness in her expression as I traced my gaze towards her eyes. I was all at once awestruck by those beautiful brown eyes. I had never seen anything so beautiful in my life. Well to be technically correct, I had never seen anything until that moment. The gaze was tiring me out. I felt the heaviness of my eyelids as I could not keep them open anymore. I tried to hold them from closing as long as I could, trying to memorize her pretty face. It was such a splendid sight enveloped in her tenderness that I was not yet ready to let go of it. I stretched my fingers towards her with a desire to feel it by my touch. I was only a few millimeters away from her face when my eyelids betrayed me and sheathed me into complete darkness.
It was surprising that even in the pitch black, I could feel her. I wasn’t alone in that darkness. There was something that was still keeping me connected with her. I was trying to discern it when all of a sudden, a fragrance seeped in my senses through my nostrils and instantly pushed the darkness away, replacing it with her vivid face. I was about to cherish the moment when my eyelids opened by itself, bringing me back to her again.
Everything was so confusing. I could see her first…then darkness…then an aroma making me see her once again…and those eyelids that were taking me away from her only to bring me back in the next instant. In that disoriented state, I almost forgot to notice that my fingers were brushing her skin. All my senses colluded towards it as if it was the most important emotion. I felt the surface as I traced my fingers from those cavities on her cheeks, skimming over the plateau of the softest expanse above those dimples, sliding over the smooth ridges of her nose and ending at her lips. She at once pouted them and kissed my fingers and her eyes started to shine brighter. Her skin felt exactly like mine. Her kiss seemed to drown me in affection. A bubble of emotions started to form within me, rising upwards and urging me to scream. I parted my lips to shout but all that came out was silence. Still, in that silence, her smile answered my muted breath.
I closed my eyes. She disappeared, at once. Slowly the same familiar fragrance painted her face in front of me. The same face that a few months earlier was just a beautiful dream for me. The same face that I had longed to see for so many days. The same face that in my darkness of deep slumber was only hope of light. Now, with my eyes closed, I started to slowly fall back into the same darkness that had been my safe haven, until that moment. Those few memories were what I had called my “FIRST MINE”. I began to drift towards my “FIRST MINE” but now I had her fragrance to accompany me.
*** ***
The first time I heard her was in the pauses of a pulsating sound. The sound rose and dropped in a periodic manner and another similar light tone accompanied it. It seemed as if the lighter one was an echo of the heavier sound. They danced in complete sync in which the latter followed in the footsteps of the previous. The lighter one felt to be originating from within me while the heavier was a bit far from around me. The resonance filled my dark world with music. I was lost in a complete reverie of the melody when I heard a strange voice.
“That’s the heartbeat… there…”
HEARTBEAT… Ah! So that is what it is called…
*** ***
I drifted back to the light. My euphoria in those few moments met sudden rock-bottom as new and weird faces popped up behind her. The world of mine that I thought comprised only us was being invaded by those new intruders. I was extremely afraid yet I dared to save her by raising both my hands to cover her face. Unfortunately, my palms failed to cover no more than a fraction of an inch. I tried to hold her tight yet my arms fell short. With no other option left with me, I used my best weapon to destroy those invaders. I closed my eyes again. Everyone disappeared again leaving us in that comforting darkness and taking me back to my FIRST MINE.
*** ***
My insides seemed to heat up. I felt thirsty. The burning sensation was spreading within me. I needed something to stop it. I needed it at once.
Then all of a sudden I again heard the same strange voice. “Can you get me some water?”
The strangeness in that voice slowly unmasked itself into sweetness as a cold liquid seeped in me enveloping the dryness into calmness.
Who was this person with such a magical voice? I felt calm. I felt secure.
*** ***
I found some distance between her and me as I immediately opened my eyes. I was being taken away from her. I was scared. I did not want her to go away. She knows me and I know her. Let me be with her. I tried to shout but no-one seems to understand what I wanted to say. It was as if my language was so different from them. I just closed my eyes again, uniting myself to my memory patches.
*** ***
I wasn’t able to sleep or maybe I was already asleep and wanted to wake up. It was an unfamiliar emotion that was making me restless.
Do something, please?… I even didn’t know to whom I was pleading or maybe I was silently hoping her to speak to me.
And then she did in the softest voice.
“Lullaby, and good night, in the skies stars are bright. May the moon’s silvery beams bring you sweet dreams.” , I heard her say. Her voice was soothing.
“Close your eyes now and rest, may these hours be blessed. ‘Til the sky’s bright with dawn when you wake with a yawn.”
I didn’t know what she is saying but her voice made me feel protected.
*** ***
Bright light… Bright light… Bright light…
Why are you doing this? Their mouths are wide open while a liquid is rolling down their faces. What are these things in their hands? Why are they passing me around?
I don’t want to look at them. I want to be with her. I WANT HER.
*** ***
I moved for the first time. I hit something with my legs. She seemed to be happy because of it so I did it again and again until I heard someone come near me. I stopped.
“Why isn’t he kicking?” , I heard a new voice to say. This one was very different from hers. I didn’t know who he was but he was always around whenever she needed something just like she understood when I needed something.
“Lullaby, and good night, you are mother’s delight. I’ll protect you from harm, and you’ll wake in my arms.” , she sang and I just kicked again. It was so fun.
*** ***
His coarse voice pulled me back from my lost home. He was looking at me while I tried to focus away from him. I heard him again in a loud voice. He came closer to me and kissed my forehead.
“I don’t want you around. I only want her.”, I tried to say but again, no-one understood. They just smiled and laughed and so I retreated to my fragments of memories.
*** ***
Something was wrong. I could feel a lot of movement around me. I was never terrified to such an extent ever. She was afraid too. I could sense her agitation.
I could hear her groaning in pain. Was it something caused by me? What did I do? I was not sure.
All of a sudden I felt a snap, making me slide a little. I froze in terror. My home was falling apart. I tried to hold on but there was nothing that I could grab.
“Her water broke… Bring the car…Fast Fast?” , I heard him shout. I was in a panic as I could feel the change around me.
What did I do wrong?
Please, she be safe. Please!
*** ***
The overwhelming fear faded as I slipped back to the present. He was still holding me in his arms but I tried to reach out to her. I leaned towards her as his lips touched her. I tried to stop him from touching her but my leg couldn’t reach.
“SHE IS MINE.”, I said but this time I could see him panic as he immediately put me back in her arm.
“He doesn’t like this father..”, someone said as they laughed.
I was so happy to be reunited to her but the last lap of my memory was going to complete its course, snatching me from her and drowning me into it.
*** ***
I could hear her heartbeat rise and the pain in her voice. I wanted to stop whatever was happening. I didn’t want to leave my place but there was a continuous push that was pulling me away from her. Make it stop, please. I was sliding away from my dark little chamber…my home was crumbling around me…I was being pulled even after all my efforts to hold on.
“Push… Push… Push…” , I heard a different voice this time. Who is this person making my world crumble? Why is he doing so?
I was so scared. I knew she was too. I could hear her wails and howls. Every scream of hers had the same sweetness and care and so I trusted her and allowed my world to fall apart. She was around me and that was all that mattered.
What was that? I felt something grab my legs. Where was she?
No… No… NO… NOOOO…
I was pushed out of the world that I had known for so long. This new world was so bright. I couldn’t keep my eyes open. Everything looked different.
Where did my dark world vanish? Wait… This was the first time I ever opened my eyes.
“Congratulations..” , I heard that different voice again. He is the one responsible for this and he is the one holding me. I screamed but he didn’t care. I was wrapped into something.
Still, she was nowhere around. I couldn’t see her. There was one last hope in that one last string of connection with her. The thread through which she held onto me and me to her
I knew, whatever happens, they can’t take me away from her. I still have that one connection with her.
And then I felt someone grab it with a soft jerk on my body.
Wait… Don’t hold it… This is the only reminder of my world.. Please..
I pleaded. I begged. I cried.
But he cut it down.
I was completely blank and lost. There was no hope left now. All that remained was a wish to see at least the face of her for one time before the last connection to my disintegrating world disappears.
The Cord of my world.
*** ***
The last footsteps of my memory safely brought me back to the threshold of my new world, before bidding me goodbye for forever. I wanted to keep them close to me and feel them always but they slowly melted away leaving me in her arms.
“Hey, baby!”, she said as the new world was growing on me because of her.
I turned to her.
“I love you.”, she said as her lips touched my forehead.
I didn’t know what love was yet her voice, her warmth, and her fragrance made me think of love to be just like her face.
Dedicated to all the mothers around the world
Read more stories:-
The Girl Who Taught Me How To Dream – Part 2
The Girl Who Tauglaboro Dream – Part 3
The Fallen Warrior
GUEST SUBMISSIONS
If you wish to share your stories, please submit your writings here
or mail us at dfloatingthoughts@gmail.com
IN CASE YOU WISH TO READ MORE ARTICLES FROM THE FLOATING THOUGHTS
THE UNTOLD SCRIBBLES – Short Stories – Poetry – Guest Submissions – Travelogues – Motivational
TO JOIN US;
Like us on Facebook
Follow us on Instagram
COPYRIGHTS RESERVED ©
April 7, 2019
Jannat! by Roy and Dee Kay
By Roy & Dee Kay
“Jannat!” the echo overshadowed the sound of typing of the keypad. She had gotten familiar to that voice yet it brought her a shiver amalgamated in a thrill, just like the time she heard it for the first time in her life.
She looked up from her laptop to the faraway mountains that stood formidably penetrating into the sheath of dense dark clouds and smiled meeting her old friend.
Today’s night seemed to be different from the previous ones. Swinging in the hammock chair that hung from the roof of her balcony, she kept pouring her untold feelings veiled in form of a story on her blog while the silent mountains kept a watch on her.
******
She believed that mountains spoke to everyone; the only requirement was to listen to them with the broken fragments of your soul. This was how her first blog post – “The Bleeding Society” came up, two years back when she had nothing else to her but a laptop, tears of her broken emotions and those echoes of the faraway mountains. The frosty fragrance of the sultry snowflakes recovering from the last dying sun-rays under the cool twilight of the moon had brushed across her face as if to kiss away those tears and preserve them in the enveloping snow of mountains. It was a bond that those mountains forged with her over tears while filling the ambiance with one name -” Jannat!” that alike this place meant Heaven, a heaven everyone craves but no-one is willing to work hard to build.
She drew her strength from those centuries-old mountains that faced alike the harsh frigid iciness of nights and the sweltering heat of days. She always tried without fail to emulate the calmness of the mountains that quietly endured the unabated rage of nature. She learned to compartmentalize her insecurities and transform them slowly into reticent prowess similar to the way how mountains made themselves invincible under adverse conditions.
In that small town amidst the landscape of vast pristine greenery, she had been failed by the flimsy society time and again. Since her childhood, she witnessed her mother and her friends being forced to live under the definite rules of the community. A community that ignored the likes or the dreams of a woman and subjected them with the objectivity of sheer existence either to provide pleasure or to hold liable. The hilarious fact was that her father was a martyr who fought at the borders to keep safe the same hypocritical society.
Moreover, the tradition of worshiping Mother Nature while disdaining the females in the society had always confounded her. She had seen her friends getting cheated by their lovers and to be married by someone else, their hobbies to be overlooked as if they never even existed, and the continual subjugation by people around them that finally rendered them into a living corpse. Yet the faltering society could not diminish the fire inside her rather amplified her dream. The dream to seek freedom tearing down the shadows of the judgemental society. The hope to make her voice so loud and clear that others can derive solace out of it. The determination to make her words her weapon to pull apart the dystopian skewed society only to create a new one where the only religion was love and the only tradition, respect.
Her first blog post did add fuel to her flare of ambitions as it went viral within a few hours of getting published. Not that it made her apple to the eyes but knowing that her words were being able, to tell the truth, and evoke the subjective sentiments was something that she had only envisaged in dreams. The weaklings looked at her as a crusader and the charlatans branded her as a feminist.
Her journey of fighting the injustice within the widely accepted social norms has began with a small blog post. She wrote the ground reality of the troublesome traditions and criterion faced by her and people like her on a daily basis. A lot changed in those couple of years. The blog that started from the bitterness faced by a late teenage girl had mellowed into the mature thoughts of a young adult. The articles that followed her first post gave voice and face to her emotions that were shared by masses not only in that small village but also across the bigger cities and other states. The duality of this society of telling one to live on their own terms while forcing them to live on a predefined set of terms. She dreamed to bring about a revolutionary change in the culture and thought process. She was hell-bent to do so no matter what lay ahead. The mountains seemed to have taught her well.
The blend of rationality and logical views in her words left the orthodox radicals with no answers other than to stigmatize her. The opposition political party showered pretentious support on her while the ruling leaders and the extremists invested their power and money to hunt her down. She was able to see through both the fake encouragements and the shallow threats. The true inspiration for her were those persons who decided to help her keep burning that dwindling fire of change. The significant turbulence due to those articles that the state witnessed in that span of time was like a bugle announcing the arrival of young visionaries.
Nobody knew who in reality was she other than just that the pen name Jannat was fighting for creating heaven for the weak and the scared. And so, they waited eagerly for her new posts, equally, be it her fanatics or her fans.
******
“Jannat!”, the voice called for her. This time it was not the mountains but her mother.
“Jannnnaaat”, her cries converted into screeches.
She turned only to find a heavy blow to her head that made her fall from her chair onto the wooden floor of the balcony. Her vision blurred and her head rattled with a concussion from the fall. She forced her eyes open with her full strength to see who knocked her down yet she could only see hazy images…four strong built figures clothed in dark long robes with covered faces holding rifles in their hands…her laptop thrown at a distance lying upside down near the balcony railings…and a screaming old woman that ran towards her from behind those men. Her heart started to throb on a frenzy mode as if it would tear apart her flesh and come out. She wasn’t afraid. She was in a rage. Yet all she could do was howl…
“Ammi”
that ended up in the screeching sound of the rifle.
One shot.
One sound.
Numerous ricochets.
With one thud the old woman fell over her daughter.
“Aaammmiiiiiiiiii”, she hollered with every cell of her body…even tears betrayed her.
“You wanted to bring a revolution but we came with the end.”, one of the men shouted.
He held her hairs in a fist and dragged her to the edge of the balcony. She did not quiver or shudder. She just stared at her mother’s corpse while being hauled by the radicals while the stream of the red fluid oozing out of her mother’s body rushed towards her as if in the last moments her mother’s blood reach out to safe her from the fate that awaits.
The entire atmosphere was filled with the haunting laughs of the hooligans. The leader yanked her by her hairs, making her stand on her feet and pinning her to the pillar. The others held her hands.
“You have to pay the price for every sinful word of your lies.”, he yelled at her while ripping away her clothes.
He pulled his robes up and pushed himself inside her. He looked deep in her bloodshed eyes. He thought that she would beg for mercy…that she will shout for her dignity…that she will regret her words. Yet all he saw in her eyes was a deepen universe of rage and unbroken strength. With every thrust in her, she didn’t flinch but stared him down…those dead stares made him realize how weak they were in front of her…those stares revealed how predictable they were. Though she stood bare, yet it was they who were naked and vulnerable at that moment in front of her. Her stares made them look less of the man they so blatantly were trying to project.
He could not bear her stares anymore. He pulled himself away from her while the others were waiting eagerly for their chance. Yet her emotionless face and those dead stares were too much to handle even for that cold-hearted sociopath. He took out his pistol and stuck the muzzle on her forehead, hoping to incite fear but failed, as she smiled at last. The man holding the gun felt powerless as this young girl just snatched away his last hope of dominating her with a smile while facing imminent death. That smile was not just meant for him but also the society that had already failed her many times. The mountains had taught her well.
He pulled the trigger and pushed her from the balcony, leaving only a fading smoke out of the muzzle.
As she fell, the frosty wind rushed towards her from those snow-capped mountains, enveloping her body with the flakes of snow. It seemed as if the mountains were unsheathing themselves to drape her bare body with white layers of snow. Her eyes stared at the cracked screen of the laptop that peeked upside down from the balcony, filling her senses with the emotions that the words of her last article were about to bring in the people the next morning …the guilt and the shame that they would feel…while reading her words…
******
“Between Heaven and Hell” – Jannat’s Blog
I look around and find the vast beauty of nature surrounding me, making me feel fortunate of my birth in such a sacrosanct paradise. Then I look again and find the people around me, forcing me to realize that my existence is their fake benevolence.
Torn between heaven and hell, I hope one day my words will bring love among the hate…will bring freedom in its true sense…will provide a safe haven amidst this heaven…
I am Jannat beholding the voice of Kashmir!
Read more stories :-
The Girl Who Taught Me How To Dream – Part 2
The Girl Who Taught Me How To Dream – Part 3
GUEST SUBMISSIONS
If you wish to share your stories, please submit your writings here
or mail us at dfloatingthoughts@gmail.com
INCASE YOU WISH TO READ MORE ARTICLES FROM THE FLOATING THOUGHTS
THE UNTOLD SCRIBBLES – Short Stories – Poetry – Guest Submissions – Travelogues – Motivational
TO JOIN US;
Like us on Facebook
Follow us on Instagram
COPYRIGHTS RESERVED ©
Featured Photo Credit – C Wall Here
April 3, 2019
Stepping Up By Dee Kay & Roy
Stepping Up
By Dee Kay & Roy
( Follow Dee on Instagram & Follow Roy on Instagram )
“You will never understand.” I mumbled those words as I watch her walk away. With every cell of my being, I wished and prayed that she contradict every word of my statement. As at the end of the day, we wish to feel appreciated and loved by someone.
She disappeared in the crowd while I stood still retracing her footsteps. The mind was saying something while the body was declining to accept it with my gaze leading from the front. The small world of my imagination began to fade away as cruelty of this undesirable reality clinched onto me. I deserve to be happy yet we usually don’t get what we deserve, we get what we get. I stood there watching the bubble of my happiness crumble underneath me.
“Excuse me!”, someone bumped into me. I couldn’t utter anything as many walked past me without realizing the destruction that I have just witnessed. Unknown to the fact that my reality and my imagination were colliding and the chaos was consuming me yet I didn’t make a single sound. I guess some emotions don’t have a voice of their own, they just silently devolve into unbearable pain.
“How long would you stand here?”, my mind finally tried to take control of this situation. I had no answer as I felt like my limbs have frozen.
“You know you’re better than this!”, it spoke again. I just shook my head in complete disapproval.
“You will get someone much nicer than her.”, it made more efforts to make me feel a little less sad. Just when a smile began to form, it spoke again.
“Or maybe you will never find anyone like her.” I was completely baffled by the sudden turn in tone.
“She was the best thing to ever happen to you.”, it reminded me the things I believed and told her more than often.
“She was the love of your life who never could love you.”, it said enraging me.
“She does not understand the love I have for her but that does not mean I need to make her understand. She might be everything you said but I am more than you think I am. I deserve to be happy and I will fight for my happiness even if she can never be part of my life. I deserve to live.”, I screamed and screamed till the last cell within me got the message. I turned around and walked away from where she left me. I kept walking and walking till I no longer could turn back.
“You don’t need others to understand you, only you need to understand you.”, my mind mumbles softly bringing back the smile on my face.
Follow Dee on Instagram & Follow Roy on Instagram
READ SIMILAR POSTS :-
GUEST SUBMISSION :-
To get featured on the website mail us at dfloatingthoughts@gmail.com or click HERE
READ MORE ARTICLES FROM THE FLOATING THOUGHTS
Short Stories – Poetry – Guest Posts – Night Rambling – Rumination –Message
FOR MORE VISUAL TREATS :-
Snapshots – Sketches – Random Clicks
TO JOIN US;
Like us on Facebook
Follow us on Instagram
COPYRIGHTS RESERVED ©
Featured Image Credit – John Bramblitt
