Paradox in the shade

“She was like a white flower, whose fragrance creased my cheeks but never kissed, the last line of a poem I wrote for myself. An unfinished melody, a rain which never drenched me, a kiss never touched my lips.

She was seductive , what attracted me towards her was something more than love, actually it was not love, nor it was hate towards life, i never hated my life, i loved it too.. maybe when life was my friend she was my lover. or when life was my wife, she was my extramarital affair, post marital and premarital. ”

This was what he said about death.

Death was never an emergency exit, or life was never a glass to be broken in case of emergency

Yet he loved her, while she was still scary for most of his friends, he was mesmerised. Yes he was selfish, when he loved her, yet he was not blinded.

He knew she was wiser than him, she would kiss him only when nothing in the world could compensate that kiss. Though the kiss was irresistible at times he just smiled at his dreams, but never searched for her.

I still remember the smile on his face, when he knew that she was near him, two eyes filled with excitement, when another ten eyes were looking him with worry and agony.Those ironic moments when agony and ecstasy rests in the same shade. I was wondering what was running in his mind at that time.

And when she left without a kiss, yet he was happy, he didn’t complain nor he was sad he was having the same smile, but the excitement was missing in his eyes. There was no dilemma between two loves, he loved both, but the way he defined it was different, though it was hard to understand, no one can feel the way you feel once you are in love. May be love was blind for the rest of the world.

Falling in love with something other than human was always a theme for poets, but he was never a poet, maybe he wrote only for her, maybe she made him a poet. May be their love is poetic. I too once fell in love but with a girl who was scared of her, but i never wrote poems for her, i gave her greeting cards which had poems, and she used to kiss me after reading them. A kiss in exchange for someone’s ideas, was she kissing me or the idea? But an idea can never be kissed touched or killed. Still her kiss was lovely. As the colours in the cards faded the colours of our love also faded. Her kiss never seemed as sweet as before.

He was smiling all the time, may be a smile to life, or may be a smile towards someone hiding behind she shades of life. He once told they were born together.

Life and death was on the opposite sides for me, like black and white. But when he smiles, I get confused instead of black and white I saw colours. When once I said about suicide, he used to tell “don’t use her, instead love her, she will care you”. But I never understood what he meant, how will death care someone? I loved my life, at times I hated it, at times I felt like running and hiding. Fickle human mind!

Once when I went to see him, wrapped in a white cloth, his eyes were closed, still he had a faint smile. He use to tell when he die, it will rain. But it was not raining at that time. May be the rain was in a place where he was with his love enjoying his long waited kiss. As the flame was enjoying their meal, my wife holds my palms tightly, unknowing of a love story buried inside those flames , whispering to me “Only death can separate us dear”