Taste

It had begun.

And it was here to stay. At least I am not letting it go.
Silence. Silence of a storm brings more violence to the act itself. This, I thought, is the point when the fears depart only to let the void of a lifetime to set in. A vacuuming act.

A ray passes through it occasionally. It reminds me the taste of the coldness in a frozen strawberry. Ripe. Luscious.

It reminds me of my first-ever flight. Adrenaline. The thrill of being alive, and not being seen.

A golden field with the orange sun teaching me the meaning of freedom.
The vertical horizon that I discovered aboard a Kolkata-bound flight.
The first kiss and the joy of knowing how insatiable "insatiable" can really be.
It reminds me of a beautiful thorn on a Black Rose.
Promises beautifully kept and more beautifully broken.
It reminds me the silent answers of the Hunter pointing towards a more silent horizon in a faded blue sky, telling me that I wasn’t a hopeless case.

A funeral wherein I laughed and laughed. The birth of someone wherein I cried and cried.

Was there anything in this world that defined happiness and sadness? Events were events. How you faced them was entirely up to you. If you cried, or if you smiled.
Happiness, like life and death, is so relative.
The softest zephyr and an evening song of the most melodious symphony.
The most grateful blink.

The most shiny glitter in my eye. The loudest clap of red thunder on the black horizon. And how fast I ran, as I saw the rain approaching. I knew I would be wet, but I wanted the thrill of escape. A battle I wanted to fight for its thrill though I knew I'd submit blissfully.
Snap shots of life.

A ray fills the void and brings back a slide show of events.
Fears evaporated and only detachment settled in. On the greenest leaves of my eyes. Dew Drops. A sunrise would make them evaporate. Evanesce. Detachment. Indifference. Loss of sense. There was no sense of loss. Or gains, for that matter. Let the judge decide. My defense rests. The verdict of silence was accepted by me. The judge's pronunciation would not matter anymore. Noise.
And the silence was taking unbelievable forms now. I was amazed at this faceless entity. May be I was seeing myself. Bare. The tattoo was engraved. Happy Birthday to me.

A new beginning. A subsiding twilight, and the dawn of a starry night. The skies cleared. The hunter was there to welcome me. My sole companion in the midst of the most important journey of my life. I'd found this night in the treasure vaults of my dreams. I'd resurrected it. I shot up, and I felt the speed. I had begun. I was flying at the speed of thought. Airborne. And I beckoned the life to catch up with me. I teased the meteorites and the comets to catch me if they could. But the meteorites swung in between heavenly bodies and comets were married to the sun. A dimple surfaced on my cheeks. It felt so warm here.
I understood gravity now: I was defying it.

One day I looked back and I saw the metamorphosis in the world: as per the seasons- rain, winter, and summer. I was above this now.
I was flying, teasing the heavenly bodies, and the gods (whom the people never resurrected anymore). I blew up stardust in my wake as I covered my dangerous descent. I was lost forever.

I had to keep this secret. Was I ever coming back again?
And if, at this point, you could taste me, you'd know what rapture tastes like.

Magic

Here it comes again.
The smile never ceases to stop dancing my face.

I tell it to go somewhere deeper where the world shouldn’t be able to find it, somewhere in the core. Like in my eyes. But it says that my heart's full, so is my soul. My eyes too sparkled, betraying the fact that I am flirting with the Sea. Romancing the horizon. Laughing with the Hunter. So it has to reflect on my face. In the mischievous dimples, in the lips that never part but speak volumes. The spirit moves. Like the flashes of lightening. A promise of a Storm. A smile that continues to flirt my face.

In the past 54 hours I was glued to my passion. My work. I worked non-stop, thanks to the season of announcements, which the entire country is waiting for. I could not have cared less. But it was passion that governs my life, and so it was. Working and never for once tiring. There was no time, yet every second counted. I was here in the mortal world, racing and defeating time, with a dangerous calm of indifference of existence. I had a home now. I was like an old lady, aged ninety eight years, who had the wisdom pearls firmly in place, reminding myself with a cold detachment that I'd seen this before. Déjà vu. At the same time I felt alive, with a brand new heart beat. His words and my heart beat. Ecstasy. The trance, frenzy, or rapture associated with mystic or prophetic exaltation.

The Hunter had gone out last night. But there was a shiny red light shimmering on its bow, atop his proud head. I had come out of my workplace, to straighten my frame. Perhaps it was to look at the Hunter - both in the sky, better known as the Orion, and atop the tall building (the sharer of my dreams and déjà vu), the Horizon, and the Sea.

My best friends. I asked them if they had heard of him.

Everyone responded to my question. The Hunter sparkled in the night sky, smiling at my inquisitiveness as a star fell from his belt, somewhere in another world, but I could see it so clearly. The Zephyr played little too intimately with my bare hands and the made way through my skin, right into my soul, telling me that the summer is here. The Sea sparkled with the radiance of a thousand lights. The red light atop the Hunter's proud head shimmered too, with a never-before mischief.
I smiled.

He was here. There was silence; there was the brewing storm, and a strong déjà vu pressing on to my senses, as I saw the sea through the strands of my hair pleasantly blocking my sight.

The Zephyr touched my bare shoulder, and as I turned back, the smile never for once leaving my eyes and lips, the warmth never leaving the contours of my soul, I felt the magic within. There was so much magic around us. There was so much life. There were so many nights ahead of me and my eyes waiting to dream. My heart waiting to create a symphony everytime I blinked. The music of lonliness. The Ecstasy of living a Life. The Freedom.

I returned back, settling in my chair, and continuing to ensure my work that it still was the cynosure of all the passion and energy that I was capable of. It complained to me that I looked at it differently. I was here, but alive in a faraway world. The coffee complained that my tongue tasted differently. It asked me who else had tasted me. What energized me, besides it. I laughed, and said that there was no one else that I could ever share that passion with. The night swiftly gave into day; people came here and asked me if I was alright. I told them I was. They asked me if had slept properly last night- my eyes were so alive. The lights of the day asked me what was I concealing beneath my black shirt, clinging to my skin as if it didnt want to share the sacred evidence of being trespassed.

They asked me why was the metallic wrist watch - a little too large for my wrist- dangling as if I didnt acknowledge the concept of time. Was it a heartbeat, or a mark deeper than the shade of my shirt? From where was the music coming? Or may be it was my black shirt and the metallic wrist watch that endlessly intrigued them. Too many questions. I smiled. I told them that it was a heartbeat, a sound that affirms life.Coffee was great, and so was my work. I was a deadline machine, after all. What I didnt tell them was the fact that time never mattered to me. The hide and seek of the dimples in my smile told them that they had every reason to believe that I was alright.

But then the flickering of the Night sky and the memory of the falling star in my eyes, that I had seen , gave away the secret. Only I knew the secret and the meaning of its betrayal.

[February 2006]