There was this old man, sitting in the long beach zipping a martini.
He told me the story of how he met her; one glimpse at the long end of the corridor. She wasn’t aware that her life is getting complicated just because she happens to be there at that precise moment.
Does his eyes twinkles when he told his story? May be it’s just a deception by his deep blue eyes!
He continued: There was this guy with a Mongolian history, then another from an oligarchy, who is the grand master of the memoir which is getting unfolded; along with an gifted artist and a dreamer they set-out to make a fraternity. It lasted only a handful years as everyone was weaving their own cloths.
While it lasted, they laughed, they dreamed, they planned together. Then as days passed by, they cried, dreams were smashed and plans were kept away in the dusty corners of the timeless, bottomless life of theirs.
People chasing people. People being they. Envy. Angry. And Love Lost.
Then he gave a vague picture of the antagonist: The Lone traveler. As lone as everyone else who comes into be and goes to end with. Was it a coincidence, that crossing the paths of everyone involved? A piece of mystery!
He was sailing the high mountains on a balloon powered by hot air, to look for a place to land – Higher altitude is harsher than the land – He found none. The traveler traveled the graveyards of the emotions and the unstable lands of mysterious minds. What else one could find in these lands except cold & darkness.
All the while she was sailing the seas, along with her numerous crews. Enjoying the hot sun and entwined in the nazms; the language of the mughals. Urudu. Was she tempted, or was she a temptress. No one knows. A thick fog of mystery surrounded her; you will never see the end and not even what’s happening in front of your nose. And then she came to the mountains when the sea became unbearable.
Why there is a sudden warmth in this land, Traveler wondered, He didn’t noticed it first, and then for some. It just grown into him. He learned to love it, even though it’s nothing like what he dreamed about it to be. Then he hold it dear and close.
He had held the fragile core of her being, so tightly in his hand; And she hung to it as if she found her place in this world, her solace and happiness. They walked together, they didn’t talk but just walked, with hand in hand. They were happy, weren’t they?
Then they talked, something that shouldn’t have done or should have done earlier. The demons of the past came to hunt. She wanted no fights and let herself to be taken. What can humans do without a will! He stands watching, sober. Choices. Sacrifice. Cold. Emptied.
He had let her very essence seep between his fingers, not willingly though, but by the sheer force of her weakness. His gentle grasp was felt no more. Trembling, she walked away, afraid to turn and meet his gaze, for she feared the emptiness in his eyes; Nothingness.
Paths will cross again, one just needs to walk. Clear the obstacles and walk. Till you find the place where you love to halt and end your travel, staying there.
Nothing made any sense, Who is this old man. Who are these people… Sure it’s the martini tricking his weakened senses.
Listen To Hearts 