Stalker

I saw it raining today, well that happens a lot

I felt it raining today, that doesn’t happen to me anymore

Suddenly I closed my eyes and out of myriad disturbing surprising astonishing and among all the shocking experiences I had so far don’t know why but my mind shifted towards a devoid, a devoid of always unoccupied mind. And in that arena all I could see was an image of her like a strand of fraction from the past came sliding and swiveling towards me, it doesn’t utter a single word except being staying there far enough to fill the void with the silence. Though it’s strange that how a certain long lost bygone of memory comes up to you in an extremely new present, making you realize of the past which could have always been a better present.

Rain well for me that’s a fancy cliché term of something so beautiful, naturally unnatural yet a used too sweet emotion, as it’s very great to experience it at the time of monsoon when all around you can see thirsty and hungry mankind filled with historicity only to make me remind of how much I have hated it all the time, like even my hatred is now over generalised. Still  this time when stuck and trapped where I could have always run like my old retrospective wild child to be wet all alone knowing well it’s gonna attract attention and a scary mother but it was easy to flung "we’ll see what happens" the cure for every ailment & a perfect ointment as I see. I wonder why growing old I stopped realizing the importance of this timid yet fervent and randomly oscillated voice instead being trapped in the questionnaire of all the probable causes, but this time there wasn’t any questionnaire at all except a broken desire and a vision of someone else popped just like a strand waiting in front of your eyelids so peacefully that being too precious to disturb yet erupting a fear of losing that strand even if you moved or touched the threshold of sensitiveness. I call this state as a paradox of self-accusation a state which begins with initialization, a longing and in the end you just accept it you just get addicted to this remorse thinking that all the world has conspired for damage, trust me the inner you say to be cool move on, you can do it but still a voice overcomes, a voice powerful enough to hide all the senses conspired with everything unknown. Like it has always predicted the future permutation and combinations shout declaring it has no use, like a loop of nothing as from nothing comes nothing, just end it here."You're  good this way, you don’t need anyone to make yourself happy".
Is it??
So is it? Why you even tossed the coin for first place Mr. 

Exactly the second you accept it, looking away physically always to be bounded with solitary melancholy,  for all the coming future as unsatisfied desires last longer than you can even think dear. Here still even after several years, there were traces of you, evidence of the crimes I never commit. 

Always ready  to be the first, in the silence of self-accusation like the montage of rain, always pinching to look back asking what if I would have just said "hii", what the worst could have happened, could have lived with the guilt of not hearing the "hii" back but not being able to at least utter the same, not being able to hear how it could have been to have a new friend as lovely like you. All other thinkings have never been my priority knowing it’s an uncertain journey of mutual consent long lost hidden found yet stolen under the words of forever and vows, it’s just mythical maybe but still it’s a journey of unexpected expectations. Yet when you admire someone you let them be like a butterfly as they have crossed the bondage of cocoon they deserve to fly higher, lifting you into wonders and isn’t it the exact thing you admire. 

I have a playfully invisible but adorable school days, I love all the pleasures and happiness I was able to fetch from my world of small cheers, the search of fantasies in every small ecstasy of belongingness. I must admit that in a way I was the king of forfeit, precisely like the games we created to hide and seeking the vastness of ambiguity, and of course blowing the stone wall to smell the essence, the essence of Petrichor- something that the adored rain left. that dried mist composed my drug back then, yet I want to put everything aside and just think about you today, maybe for a second still let me punish myself.

The girl with the broad umbrella, you were and today I’ll admit that apart from everyone else my heart beats used to take another pace around your vicinity, my trembling hands could have been measured on Richter at those particular moments,  completely suffered and manipulated drops of clarity. How seeing you in rain I never realized whether I’m dried or soaked, undoubtedly seeing you I was always drowned in the waves of invincible shyness and in the shadow of transcended fears. Well, you may say it was a love at first sight as my eyes just used to escalate from your toes slightly like a wind shifting up through your legs admiring the socks which have just met the puddle,  a naïve impression of tender sweetness it was, whatever you wore just haunted back. Much about as your eyes it was the flaunted ocean where mind froze, unwillingly willing to dwell for ages.  

They were  innocent, mild and decent. Maybe this realm has found another meaning in these words, but for me your simplicity was the jewel of existence. Was I in love, well we all grow and convert to rebel once, and as the cycle grows the mind and hurt does betray. I used to feel you simply like a painter exploring his canvas. I used to imagine, holding your hands and just sliding mine through them, exactly like a peaceful accord in the amity of complete longiness always in search of forgiveness. 

I was always jealous of your umbrella and yes I won’t resist using the world jealous instead of envy, persuading my right of involuntary honesty, as it was really a blessed, vivid & vibrant umbrella, not just of the normal hemisphere, it was broad, tender like you. Always stored a complete experience of yours inside it. I wished everyday, hallucinating - to be there in that creation of yours.  I always wanted to study you more, not like an object but more of a source of delight,  no laughs or grin but a complete unadulterated powerful smile. 

I wanted to be a cptive of them which obviously I was, loosing the battle in first line. I wanted to welcome it in reality apart from fiction and miseries.  I know you all must have nominated me for the post of a desperate stalker, yet I’ll admit that I was a stalker. I used to be there around, hidden in my own envelope, as much hiding under the tress only to recognize, I was a victim just from the very inception of your glance, I was yours a prisoner without even a single pact signed a single bullet fired.

I have imagined a myriad of conversations with you. I have practiced monolouges and dialouges I had made you laugh and I had made you cry not just once but million of times, I have known you more than you'll do,  a complete open book you were. Everytime my eyes were closed you were there just like a perfect rhyme. 

Still, I didn’t know a word of the consequences conspired, open I was trapped in a world, comfortable with you. Counting stars and floating with skylarks, you were someone who would never knew that I even existed. Someone like me, who has shared both cheerful and tough times. Even now I wonder what the rain would be for you. Do you still walk that ardently like a rabbit in pastures?  I have closed my eyes and after several years in this monsoon,  I again saw you exactly in front of my sight exactly with same naiveity and mischefness. Holding that broad umbrella just smiling till the rainbow ends.

I saw it raining today, well that happens a lot

I felt it raining today, that doesn’t happens to me anymore

Being best at self-accusations

A stalker at it's best

By- Kshitij Sinha

16/7/2017