a few grey lines...

Rays of light splashed into my eyes as if it was waiting over the eye lids for years to have a peek in. I found myself in a bizarre aura, a sophisticated shade all over. Some random machines and monitors with wires and tubes running from and around me.

I see a lady in the famous nurse’s white attire busy reading the monitors around me. I tried making some sound to call her attention, but my throat seem to have rusted off, all I could feel was some spikes of dryness over there. I struggled out to pick my arm from the bed, and then gave a semi wave, a gesture so incomplete and dead. But it served its purpose. She slowly walked to me with a soothing smile painted over her young lips. “Yes sir”!! I smiled back and turned aside. That was all I could do.

The rear end of the tunnel called “LIFE”!!

 I always had a picture about this scene which doesn't fall anywhere near the real one I see here now. I believed that there was some unmatched beauty about the word “ENDING” with a sprayed fragrance of "completion" in it.  And now I realize that it was nothing but another of those idiotic virtual creations of my writer’s sense. There’s nothing marvelous about death. I see a dirty rat race here. A cult in white holding the steths fighting it out for a cause that’s too silly.Holding on to a withering piece of flesh and bones just to feed their professional satisfaction. I see nothing more in this.

Life is not meant to be complete and even the Ghandhis or Buddhas failed to do so. Every story had trails of abridged wishes and a bottom line signed with regrets. My pages are no different, holding different shades of the same, regrets.

“Do what makes you happy” a statement so heard and told, a life manthra that still doesn't fail to grasp attention and believing in this line was my biggest regret. I failed miserably to reach that fancied pinnacle called happiness. It kept eluding me and pulling me to take bigger leaps. And now when I stay here motionless, I feel as if as I was running a race alone all these years. None in front or behind and no medals to be won, just kept running like a mad horse.

Happiness is like a lightning. It flashes in dark, giving you glimpses of the bright world and then dies off. It’s a momentary phenomenon and it’s too silly a thing to chase. You keep striving for years to live a few seconds of brightness and it’s this momentary nature that still makes it the most desired thing in the world. I wish, I had cried a few minutes more minutes as that was the more genuine tone of life. I should have taken life in its own flavor, rather than trying to cook it up into some other lame form to see those fancy flashes. This dish is meant to be enjoyed the way it’s served to you.

When I opened my eyes again, I still see that young lady smiling at me. Few pulses of sound managed to tear up my dried lips and make its way out.

“ hey., don’t miss a chance to cry. I miss my tears more than those million smiles that I toasted over the years”

As my eyes goes closed, I felt a drop of that prized liquid rolling down my cheek …