Thought...

Death, of your deftness, be not proud;
For the footsteps of age, are resounding and loud...

Happenings!!

Just before the month of July trickles off, I am here with a couple of announcements. The Clarity of Night contest, where I had managed to receive an honorable mention(read the entry here) the last time, has come to a close this time. The contest is tougher this time, what with over hundred and fifty stories, and some seventy making the final cut. Yours truly has managed to get through to the much coveted final list. Go check out the entry here. In other news, I, along with another author and my publisher, have been a part of a "Writer's meet" initiative right here in New Delhi. Incase you want to be a part of it or know more about it, do get in touch. My book, Cold Feet, is now up for sale at Midlands Book Store, South Ex. If you want it off the net, you can always head here or here. If you still have trouble finding the book, get in touch with me personally on my gmail ID or drop a line!! Loads of writing coming soon! :)

Occurence

Its always hazy.

Occasional pin points of dull, lazy, colored dots waft through an almost monochromatic vision. The middle of the night is never sepia; almost always monochrome. It begins with black, and then the white slowly washes over, tingling the rods and cones, as it invades the castle of your eye. The ground feels cold, almost frigid underneath the bare soles. You are still trying to focus. Reality is acting like a bitch that it is, refusing to perch on the twig of your consciousness; flitting ceaselessly in and out of your imaginarium. Look closer.

Its still hazy.

Dragging the mass of a human body, you feel your emotions rise; the sense of direction is finally coming back to haunt you. Being directionless almost seems like a boon, now that the path of unforeseen agony lies before you. The metallic demon isn’t clanking anymore, aware of the fact that its silence is going to rouse your intrigued self. It does and how. You lurch towards it, the task in hand beckoning you like gnawing hunger. The objects around you are finally starting to filter into your consciousness, making you feel aware of your surroundings. They seem strangely alien. In the bright light of the daytime, all of this would have passed off as the dullness of the everyday existence, but not now. Not with the quiet monster inches away, not with the set, concrete, ‘Now’ hammering realism into your slow, dormant awakening. You have set the illumination in place, which now offers a clearer understanding of all forces involved, and in the moment, you place your hands on the hide of the metal monster.

The haze explodes.

A brilliant bolt of energy, races through your body, almost tearing your body apart. The point of contact is warm now, almost scalding, but you can’t let go; it won’t let you. ‘This is probably how enlightenment feels like’, you wonder; healing yet painful. An act of will is the only way. Let go before it consumes your soul, leaving behind a sorry pile of flesh and bones, devoid of anything that ever resembled the living, let alone human. You must let go now. NOW!

The piece of hide clangs to the floor now, complete realization finally settled upon the brow. Everything is totally in focus, the haze gone. The wound on the palm pulsates with white pain; but it would fade, eventually. The moment is over. All that is left to do is go back to the monochrome. Go back to the black. To the dark.

Before the haze…

[inspired by my cooler, which shocked me out of my senses a few nights back. Thank you for the moment of Nirvana.]