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unwind with - Baarish by Mohammed Irfan, Gajendra Verna
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I heard somewhere that silence is another form of gold as no one could pay for it, the heck world is too noisy. And may be that's why I quite moderately possessed authority over the silence. Some feared about silence but I skilled breathing it it, consuming it wholly until it started to dominate others and legitimizing silence more than words. I crowned as cold by some educated clown as cold as an insult according to them but coldness sharpened my liveliness. And Kabir Amory Arya do not sell sugar dipped refined words but I just love to play.
The buzzing of old engine was filling distance between us, the road stretched endlessly before me, illuminated only by the steady rhythm of the headlights cutting through the dark. She was asleep beside me, her face soft in the pale light, her lips parted slightly as she dreamed. She always seemed so unguarded, even now, completely careless, completely trusting. I did not deserve her trust yet recently I wanted to become trustworthy for her. My fingers tightened on the steering wheel, the leather creaking under the pressure. Her laugh, enthusiastically started engraving every in details in my every single fiber of cardiac, her intrepid attitude questioned my deceitfulness every now and then. She had a way of seeing beauty where I knew only barbarity. I couldn’t understand her world, and I didn’t want her in mine. I was more determined about that, than I was more sure about my own company. But now, as I behold at her sleeping form beside me, the faint rise and fall of her chest, I felt the weight of those choices pressing harder than ever. She shouldn’t be here and yet here she was. And now, her way of returning was permanently shut down. You, willing entered in my silence despite of my warnings, cracking it and now I will not allow you to return. You have to stay with me, near me and beside me lifelong. I might not want to name this suddenly disturbing steps in my formulation but you certainly made your presence obsession for me.
She leaned more to my side, strands of her hair catching the moonlight. She looked peaceful, almost fragile, so different from the chaos that seemed to accompany me everywhere I went. I chuckled softly as I realize that she herself a whole, big chaos. I forced myself to keep my eyes on road which was frequently staring at her, but her this only form permits me to paint her beautiful canvas. This woman is different, like not just different but she is unquie. She do flirt, a lot, openly, like her tongue butchered the filter, the ability we all human graced by birth to control thoughts, after knowing their owner is Ms. Aaravi.
