The Impulse:
It lasts just a moment long. You pause, you exchange and you move on. It’s quite strange that it happens the way it does for out of your whole preempted life, with everything in your life happening and not happening just the way it should happen and not happen, out of nowhere you exchange those glances. And there you go. Things pause, life pauses, you look up, turn back and you try and find where has she gone, but no you can’t find her because it was momentary and it’s over now. It’s like one of those electric impulses you might get while turning on an archaic switch and you go like “whoa! What what was that” and you are brought back to consciousness, an awaken state. You look at the switch find nothing wrong and get back to what you were doing. You don’t realize that somewhere within that impulse just brought back in you what you had lost! This is the journey of Javed.
Javed and Aali:
He lay there in the swamp, filthy, his heart in his hand, grimed with all the red wine that spewed across from it. His body had lost about a quarter of the red wine but his soul was lost forever in the most beautiful pair of eyes he had ever come across. Even the red wine couldn’t have brought Javed the happiness in seeing those eyes again and his heart kept growing weaker, but he had to live for the impulse had brought him to this bliss and he was just there.
He got up, he didn’t remember who he was. Vicarious memories of her flashed across him. Even more transcendent were the visions of the zombies grasping him, pulling him back into where he had come from; his past. She was beautiful, happy, dancing, fluttering and they were gruesome, horrific terrorizing his oblivious construct of her, Aali. But Javed was not aware of the reality. For him reality was a concoction of the real and the delusional with the only absolute being her eyes. Wonderful was his world that he had constructed with a mere exchange of glances. It started right there and ended right there with everything in between. And his only mantra for survival was to look into those glistering eyes, with just about three quarters of red wine and his heart still pumping.
The lies:
In those days people carried their heart in their hand. It was difficult all right, but one knew it for sure when the heart was beating! He nimbled across the streets, his impetuous eyes moving across faces, exchanging glances but none of them had the same impact as the one he was looking for. In through the lanes, several of them, imperative to find her and his thirsty eyes turning desperate, he turning outrageous, an ardent fire burning within, his desperate eyes turning sore and his heart spewing even more red wine. He had to find her. This had to happen. This could not not happen, it was written down in the relics and he knew it. And there; he saw Aali, in the most exquisite splurge of beauty, sullen, solitary, inadvertent there she sat around the corner. Happy, dancing, fluttering, these were the images that were meant to flash. But it was different this time. Her face covered with a veil revealing just that what mattered. The images, yes they did flash by......those were the most beautiful pair of lies.
