LIFE AFTER DEATH

DAY 1 : There was a big lock outside. There was nothing, absolutely nothing, a total , abysmal atmosphere. I was missing her throughout the 2 months. No doubt I was disappointed, but waited for another , brighter tomorrow.

DAY 2 : Again a lock, now everything, in and out was becoming jittery. Omens were being produced and reproduced before me. Something unusual was to happen, I knew that.

DAY 3: Nothing was normal around that place. Everything , it seemed ,as if, was implying to a mis-hap. That place where I used to find her, was not normal. Some guys stormed in, something stormed out. I tried to drift my attention away,only to find it pinpointed there . My thoughts conjured up this time, something unusual was happening.

DAY 4: It finally happened, the doom’s day finally came , and judgment ,at last arrived, all the penultimate restlessness resulted in an ultimate assault. It was gone, that reddish grace was no more , that bombastic atmosphere was killed by some abstruse enemy of mine. My love, my Nescafe , finally was gone ,don’t know why, don’t know where, but……gone.


They say, I don’t know why, “TIME HEALS IT ALL”. Does it? Or time itself is like that old grandpa whose camaraderie with tensions, socio-political wounds, is an obscure yet profound truth. Or even it is not a truth globally, for me, it has been locally, a mantra. If I recall the 3 years of my college , right from those ragging season, to this year of penance at Shastri Nagar, I have been drowned in tension. Tension, sometimes, it seemed act as a soother for me.
It was all a matter of questions, arising baselessly in me, until I found a tacit answer. ADDA LAAL BAADSHAAHON KAA”. A place, where I tended to forget all the syntax and semantics of life. That cup of coffee, bina pani , was as pure as those last wine drops of Jesus. That red bricked border of hers, where I tested many dreams, most of them finally rested in peace. Those sips, which used to take us to soaring heights of magnanimity, just to relinquish, for a split second those awful tensions.

DAY 5: That white blank space is still visible to me. That coffee is doing a razzmatazz in my mind as I, newly formed day scholar, is having a bout with my tiffin. And at last as I gulp down my last bite, I see a structure being carried in front of me, to the other side of the canteen. That bright red Nescafe was being shifted to the other side. “In a better style”, somebody said,”in a better way”.
A sudden feeling arose, what type of, I can’t tell, old days were laid to death last day, only to be buried today, so as to give birth to a small set of memories. There was a ticklish, feeling, a perfect combo of excitement, nervousness, pain, and joy. Perhaps now, I was understanding my inner turbulence after becoming a Day Scholar. My love , the Classic Coffee of the Nescafe, had , by taking a reincarnation, taught me the ethics of time. Time , I understood,was healing in form of wounds. It was giving answers, in form of more complex questions.

DAY 6: The new Nescafe is being constructed, and I as a Day Scholar am eating my Tiffin ,calmly.