Sipher

An almost dried-up pond, wait patiently in the corner of the forest. A scorching sun, dried leaves, a heavy wind; All weathering it down bit by bit. Before its patience ran out, the wild do turn up tired and thirsty. The wild sniffs, get relaxed and dranks from the pond. When it dranks, the pond for a moment, finds the wild looking at it, in its eyes. The pond feels the acknowledgment in the eyes of the wild. But in the second moment, the pond realizes, the wild could not see it. The wild saw its own reflection in the pond. The wild quenched its thirst, return back connected to its own soul. The pond stays back, holding that half a moment of acknowledgment.

  Maybe this time I have gone too far. As of now, I don’t believe in small cuts anymore. ... In a single blow, want to cut out your heart, which has any kind of feelings for me. ... Want to tear down all the walls along with its cobwebs Want to devoid any politeness in your voice Want to remove distractions projected by your words Want to unhide pain in your eyes ... Once you shred all that, I want you to cut the heart out of me, which has no feelings for you. ... Maybe this time I want to go far enough, to the point of no return.

Who exactly is a hero to someone? Are they the ones who do the unimaginable for you? Or are they the ones who make life easier by ensuring you don’t have to face difficulties at all?   For most of us, in those early years of growing up—when we were completely dependent on our parents—it was they who meant everything to us. They were our world, and everything else felt like an extension of that world. Naturally, in those moments, they were our heroes. But as our world slowly expanded beyond them, the way we, as children, responded to new experiences—and the way our parents chose to present themselves—played a huge role in shaping our early understanding of life.   Looking back, I’ve realized one thing about my father: he never tried to be a hero for me. He never projected himself as infallible or all-knowing. He was simply… himself.   But does it make a difference if parents don’t try to appear invincible or shoulder every worry for their children? ...

 “Do you have any Cadbury deodorant?” standing on the other side of the counter, I asked sheepishly. She reacted as if she misheard me first. But with the moment, her eyes recognized mine, as if we were friends in person than just sms-pals. Those were the simpler times. We met online, it was like any regular story of a boy who stumbles upon a girl in the online world. Stumble upon, that's how all special relations start. I sit back and stared at the screen for some time. Starring at mobile, I was not sure what to do with the sms I got in reply. That “Hi!” in reply was like someone acknowledged my existence from some other end of this universe. It was a reply to an unassuming ‘Hi’ initiated by me. It took some time to not get surprised every time getting a reply in return to my text messages. Those were the simpler conversations. Each day we come to know a little more about each other, than before. She runs a store with her brother in a distant city, and I was for the first time awa...

 I had nothing more to lose. That's why I was standing there, on that balcony, beside him, waiting for his reply. He was like a godfather to me. I mean literally, like Vito Corleone, in “The Godfather” movie; to whom no one could speak, before thinking ten times. We as a kid use to be afraid to say anything in front of him. I heard about his legacy from my mother; about her brother, about the man I am standing beside right now, at this balcony. He has built an empire of his own, from scratch, with his bare hands and empty pockets. “I want to go, I need that money”, I said. He said nothing as if he didn’t listen to me at all, or what I thought, not convinced. But then, I could not muster the courage to speak more, I already spoke unthinkable. I am already doing unthinkable, standing beside him, for the first time; talking to him like a man, to a man. I have to leave. Sometimes leaving is the only reason to go somewhere else. After 21 years, I am trying to break the imbecile cord. Th...

It was a sudden, unresolved ending to our series of meetings. Just like our marriage. “Where we will sit & discuss?” On the first day, standing on a footpath opposite her apartment, my overwhelmed mind got distracted by such trivial concern. It was our third meeting in three days. Unlike the first two da y s, people around me don’t bother me much now. This time, she was on time. Seems by now, she comfortable sharing that footpath with me, while we trying to untangle ourselves from this mess. But by now, there were more questions, than what I came with. “So, what's now?” I abruptly asked, hoping those hundreds of questions which shooting pain in my head, will vanish away. And unexpectedly, it did. She took a moment and replied, “I don’t know, I need time..” Now, all my questions at that moment become irrelevant; just like me in her life. We hardly spent more than an hour standing there, yet we both were exhausted. It would have been a hectic day in the office for her, just like ...