Kiss…

Melting dark chocolates... a shower of rose petals... the silent soothing fragrance of jasmine... the gentle breeze... the rhythmic swaying trees... and Yanni's poignant rendition of "Until the last moment...", she remembers her first kiss. She remembers the tears welling up in her eyes... flowing down her cheeks, only to be stopped by his lips the next moment. She remembers his comment… as if struck by a strange revelation… “Salt,” he had said smiling. She had looked into those eyes… intense, romantic, poetic… her heart beating fast and her breaths coming short. She had held onto him, never wanting to let go… hoping that he wouldn’t let go either… but things change… leaving just random images… dreams becoming delusions… cold… final… the end. Now as she stood in the cold with the rain pelting on her shoulders, she felt the wave of change again. She saw him…

Waves thundering on the silent rocks… a distant lightning… the pungent smell of love in the air… passions ignited… time standing still… he remembers his first kiss. He remembers looking into her eyes, seeing the tears in them… He remembers kissing those tears as they flowed down her cheeks, tasting the saltiness… He remembers hugging her tight… a moment that will stand the test of time… melting away in her arms… her own soft fragrance intoxicating him… and their hearts beating in perfect rhythm… everything perfect… no barriers… But then the tides stopped… there were no more waves to break the barriers of change… no more hands to hold… an empty bag of straws. She was gone. Now, as he stood in the rain waiting for the bus, he felt the tide building up again. He saw her…

The bus was late. They stood in the rain waiting… staring at each other, exchanging silent messages… rhythmic heartbeats… the longing in their eyes… passions ignited. Time stood still again… urgent, desperate, impetuous… and they came closer. He looked into her eyes, she looked into his… and they hugged. A moment later, he kissed her softly on her lips... she closed her eyes… melting chocolates, thundering waves, raining roses… After an eternity, he broke off the kiss, looked at her beautiful face and asked her, “What’s your name?”

Dark Wader!

The night was cool, the mind was not. I was walking back home from college and my hands were shivering. Not from the cold, but from a combination of some insane sorrow and some randomly generated images from my life. Poignancy filled the air with its vile innocence and I couldn't make head or tail of the thoughts that seemed to enter my mind and exit at the same time. Insane. Obscure. Abstruse. Then I understood. The hero in me was dying, to be replaced with a morally reprehensible creature who seemed to be completely indifferent not only to what was happening around him, but also to what was happening to himself. Indifference they said, was more dangerous than hatred. And here I was, wading through the dark. Dark wader.

I continued walking. 400 feet from home. Heart beating fast, blood rushing into my head... and I saw red... blood red. And I knew that I was beyond the point of redemption. I was metamorphosing. I expected to turn nocturne. I expected to grow black wings like the dark angels (were they really dark?!) I expected my eyes to turn red like they would show in all those B-rated horror movies (I wonder who thought that one up!). No more selflessness. No more helping others in need. Me, me and me. No more heroism. I was the villain. It's better to be the villain in these times. They always win. Oh of course there is the matter of going to hell. But well, that matters only to people who believe in hell. So to hell they shalt go. Not me. To me it is absolutely comical, the belief that people are burnt in hell and tortured in hell and fried in hot oil. I am always tempted to frustratingly retort "Dude, you leave your body behind when you die. You think the soul cares if its deep fried?". I hope someone comes up with a more vivid and better image of how hell would be (for all those who believe in the concept that is... coz I don't care). For me, loneliness is hell. Hence the metamorphosis seemed important to me.

250 feet from home. I thought of the times I had offered my help to people. I thought of the people who used me. I thought of all the instances where I had invested my entire time to make people feel better. I thought of how they had grown far away from me. No more worries. Hakuna Matata. Freedom at last. And I thought of my own misery. And no one to care. How the loneliness would hit me like a million pinpricks of gusty wind on a day of heavy snow. The skin burning with pain... nothing to show for it though... the winds are always deceptive... just like relationships... one can only wait for the burning sensation to stop... before it starts again. Cynicism. Sarcasm. Contempt.

50 feet from home. The heroism had to end. No more agony aunt either. People who have problems should deal with their own problems, I thought. It was the birth of the villain. The excitement grew. The darkness grew. And I let myself float into it... deep inside the long clichéd tunnel... I reached the door to my apartment. Someone was lying sprawled right outside the door. The guy who lived next door. Drunk. And cold. Out cold. The tunnel ended. The lights became brighter. It was time for respite... before it got dark again. I managed to drag him inside. The metamorphosis was interrupted. Hodgepodge! Denial! Resignation! Good prevails... and "hell" rules...!!!