Saffron.... red to black...
SAFFRON
His gallant face drew me back to forcefully buried memories, when i was mere 9. When the clock used to struck 7:00 pm. Terror used to encircle me. There used be clash of two mighty ego's. Pillow used to savior. Most of the times it used to give up. My brother used to see me in the eyes, his eyes were sign to hold on One day he came between mighty giants, took all poison in himself. His red eyes were symbol that his age is very less for this gallant action. The day a child was killed a premature adult was born. From that day, everyday his eyes used to be red, nights were not that furious. Most of the time he sufficed. At night his upper half of face used to stiffen like an adult, and lower one used to like a parent with red glossy eyes he used to talk cheerfully. One day he was reading a book. He used seem cheerful. After a long time his whole face moved with a synchronization. he was happy. I looked the title of book, it was Gita. Days went by, he moved from upnishad, ved, Quaran to Vivekanand. At that time they were only titles to me. All i knew, his eyes were responsible of fading away of redness of his eyes. He used to silent at days, only at nights he used to speak. Mother felt uneasy, but smile of his face assured her that he is ok perhaps he has grown too tall. He is ok perhaps he has grown too tall. Broken tapes used to play devotional songs only. Mother has the fear of loosing him, but she was contained to see genuine smile on his face. One day eruption was too massive, he tried to soak it all. But he failed, I couldn't hear words beneath two pillows. When sounds stopped, i took off the pillows. He stood in front of me. Drunken fury has taken a toll on him. He was unable to distort his lips to resemble a smile. His red eyes gave up on him, few drops erupted out. Though it looked like water, but his face made it clear, they are of the same colors as his eyes. "Its not enough to change yourself only", he mumbled.
After few days, he was silent. Mother made kheer for him. I volunteered to serve him.
RED
"Bhaiya kheer acchi bani hai."
He turned around. He drew my cheek out.
He knew i hated it. Bottom down in my subconscious mind, i didn't want to accept that i was child.
There was red book in his hand. Name written was "Fredrick Engels". From that day days start improving. Those days, there used to be only one voice at night. He was the patient listener. He tried to defy laws of human psychology. On day while returning from school, i saw him shouting within a herd to peoples giving pamphlet. I spilled the beans and told to mother. She got mad at him, as usual he uttered no words in retaliation. He consoled her. I could see within the tears of mother there was fear of loosing her most loved son. I thought he will take on me, but he smiled asked me not to bother mother by telling these things, One day he went out for procession for a week. I used to sleep early. Waited for him for 10 days. He didn't called or contacted us. Eleventh day, mother went into tears. Even father got worried. He came into house that afternoon. Everyone started crying on him. Mother went into tears again, he consoled him that everything is alright. I could sense apathy in his voice. That day i realized meaning of family to him is changed. I was happy mostly because there will be peace.
I was at highschool, he has to leave for higher studies. Everyone was sad because of their selfish reasons. He asked because of their selfish reasons. He asked my sister to take care of me. I retaliated that I can take care of myself. He took out a box and gave me. And said "study hard, you have to take care of your mother". I opened the box, it was walkman. After that day, I saw sounds at night lost the synchronization with visuals. I watched the opera every night. Took his words as religion, only studied. I could see the suffering , but did nothing. I was preparing to play the saviour into grand opera. Part of me only wanted to save myself. In few years, weariness of age have silenced the voices. But now there was total silent.
BLACK
The day i got job, he came to visit me. He told me that he is leaving job and joining an NGO. On a different note i said "They don't talk now". He said, "Sometimes last resort are painful, but we have to live with it. They tell that he was shot in the night. He must have stood stiffer against the gun. He must have given the open invitation. In front of his might, his hands must have got shook when he shot him. He must have stood there in his feet till darkness took him.
His gallant face drew me back to forcefully buried memories, when i was mere 9. When the clock used to struck 7:00 pm. Terror used to encircle me. There used be clash of two mighty ego's. Pillow used to savior. Most of the times it used to give up. My brother used to see me in the eyes, his eyes were sign to hold on One day he came between mighty giants, took all poison in himself. His red eyes were symbol that his age is very less for this gallant action. The day a child was killed a premature adult was born. From that day, everyday his eyes used to be red, nights were not that furious. Most of the time he sufficed. At night his upper half of face used to stiffen like an adult, and lower one used to like a parent with red glossy eyes he used to talk cheerfully. One day he was reading a book. He used seem cheerful. After a long time his whole face moved with a synchronization. he was happy. I looked the title of book, it was Gita. Days went by, he moved from upnishad, ved, Quaran to Vivekanand. At that time they were only titles to me. All i knew, his eyes were responsible of fading away of redness of his eyes. He used to silent at days, only at nights he used to speak. Mother felt uneasy, but smile of his face assured her that he is ok perhaps he has grown too tall. He is ok perhaps he has grown too tall. Broken tapes used to play devotional songs only. Mother has the fear of loosing him, but she was contained to see genuine smile on his face. One day eruption was too massive, he tried to soak it all. But he failed, I couldn't hear words beneath two pillows. When sounds stopped, i took off the pillows. He stood in front of me. Drunken fury has taken a toll on him. He was unable to distort his lips to resemble a smile. His red eyes gave up on him, few drops erupted out. Though it looked like water, but his face made it clear, they are of the same colors as his eyes. "Its not enough to change yourself only", he mumbled.
After few days, he was silent. Mother made kheer for him. I volunteered to serve him.
RED
"Bhaiya kheer acchi bani hai."
He turned around. He drew my cheek out.
He knew i hated it. Bottom down in my subconscious mind, i didn't want to accept that i was child.
There was red book in his hand. Name written was "Fredrick Engels". From that day days start improving. Those days, there used to be only one voice at night. He was the patient listener. He tried to defy laws of human psychology. On day while returning from school, i saw him shouting within a herd to peoples giving pamphlet. I spilled the beans and told to mother. She got mad at him, as usual he uttered no words in retaliation. He consoled her. I could see within the tears of mother there was fear of loosing her most loved son. I thought he will take on me, but he smiled asked me not to bother mother by telling these things, One day he went out for procession for a week. I used to sleep early. Waited for him for 10 days. He didn't called or contacted us. Eleventh day, mother went into tears. Even father got worried. He came into house that afternoon. Everyone started crying on him. Mother went into tears again, he consoled him that everything is alright. I could sense apathy in his voice. That day i realized meaning of family to him is changed. I was happy mostly because there will be peace.
I was at highschool, he has to leave for higher studies. Everyone was sad because of their selfish reasons. He asked because of their selfish reasons. He asked my sister to take care of me. I retaliated that I can take care of myself. He took out a box and gave me. And said "study hard, you have to take care of your mother". I opened the box, it was walkman. After that day, I saw sounds at night lost the synchronization with visuals. I watched the opera every night. Took his words as religion, only studied. I could see the suffering , but did nothing. I was preparing to play the saviour into grand opera. Part of me only wanted to save myself. In few years, weariness of age have silenced the voices. But now there was total silent.
BLACK
The day i got job, he came to visit me. He told me that he is leaving job and joining an NGO. On a different note i said "They don't talk now". He said, "Sometimes last resort are painful, but we have to live with it. They tell that he was shot in the night. He must have stood stiffer against the gun. He must have given the open invitation. In front of his might, his hands must have got shook when he shot him. He must have stood there in his feet till darkness took him.
posted by off roady @ 1:58 AM
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home