wrinkles....

“heyy!!..what exactly in me that you love the most??”

The query was off beat for the moment and it shook me up from my thought swirls . I shifted my gaze from the road to her and saw her waiting for a cheese coated reply which could sweep her off the feet. My arms were still pawed to the steering wheel, while the other four was still rolling as it was happening for the past few hours. As the saying goes”a car…and wide long alley in front…the range of opportunities goes infinite”. That’s exactly what happened..an aimless drive!!!

And now my answer, it was quick and crisp.. “your fingers”!! J

And I smiled at her weird look as she fell back to the seat in disappointment. I know, the reply was off her ken aura…and all she does was kept staring at her fingers and then on to me. It was long and cute, I mean her fingers, but not as cute to make someone fall for it. For the rest of the drive..she remained silent and puzzled, cursing herself for ending up with such an unromantic bull J

And now years have rolled by, leaving it’s trail lines all over, even our skin was not spared. Wrinkles, one running on to the other…screaming out to world that “THIS SPECIMEN IS AGED”!!    

Her fingers were no exception, now I see it motionless..except for the few tremors induced by her new friend…”the Parkinson’s disease”. The fingers that were once my love is no longer the same…moving to the mischief of some pre programmed command…a game in which she was red carded years before.

It was these fingers that taught me that lines can talk more than words and I have witnessed wonders been scripted with a paper and a few lead marks. No wonder, I fell for that wizard with the pencil .I was not lying that night, it was those fingers that gave me a new reason every day to hold her more closer.

I tried to make her hold a pencil to relive those moments, but the magic stick proves to be too heavy for the withered wizard. It’s such a weird feeling when you are forced to accept that we are nothing more than machines and will stutter and shiver to a motionless end.

 She never asked the reason for that weird reply that I gave on that crazy yet sweet night, years before. Neither did I reveal it myself. And now standing here watching the pencil drooping off from those flaccid tentacles, I realize that the show that I lived for wont be staged again.