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Ecstasy.

I hope that you’ve really enjoyed our journey as a blogger-reader relationship so far. Thank you for appreciating me though, it actually means a lot. Keep reading me. Love you.

Ever known what love feels like? Yes. I guess we all here have experienced that at some point or another in our respective lives. Somedays it sucks, some days it’s the most special thing that you could’ve ever felt. But what if you have a thing for maybe a person or a thing, like books (in my case) that you haven’t even come across in the slightest of distance and one fine day you wake up to find it right in front of you? How would that make you feel? Awesome, shocked, surprised or something you can never explain and you don’t even want to? But what if you have a past with it…?

“That’s enough for today sweetie. You may take a break.” I told her as I parted away from the camera. She loosened up a bit, took a sip of cold water from the glass lying nearby and said, “I could do this everyday for you.”
Ahh. That smile is the best thing I have ever seen.
It’s just something that I can never put into words. Maybe some things are never meant to be described for they’re their best when felt through the heart.

And then, I woke up suddenly breaking away into the reality. The harsh reality. Maybe it’s not even that harsh, but god she was beautiful that everything without her appears dull.

Since ma had been quite persistent about it, I unwillingly got up from my bed and took a little longer than usual to get ready for college. After all, I had been thinking about her. That wonderful smile, her perfect self, everything. She has left a detailed impression of her in my mind and I don’t want it to fade from there ever.

I am an art student and the fact that I love art in all forms is quite oblivious so I don’t have to probably tell you that I have great talent in these subjects as well. So yes, here I am in my art class, painting her beauty with my brush strokes. Her hair going till the end of her back like it’s a never-ending river, her hands and legs that always seemed perfectly carved by an invisible magic to my eyesight. She looked at me as if she craved to stay with me. She smiled, I laughed, and slowly, we fell in love.

Only if she were for real. Only if she wasn’t someone who remained confided in my poems and photographs, only if she weren’t my dream that I longed to fulfil. Nothing could have ever harmed her if she were made of flesh and not of memories. My eyes etched to feel the depths of her soul, my embrace craved to protect her, my fingers wanted to linger over her and take her away from herself.

Like I always described her in my poems,
“She was my ecstasy, my only living dream;
the one I painted through lens and brushes,
the one who was always a part of me,
the one who resided within me and was only mine,
wholly mine,
for I could have loved her,
more than these words,
for I could have touched her,
more than these letters;
She was the drug that gave me high spirits,
The faint, but sole memory that kept me alive.”

I absolutely have no idea as to why had I described her like that. I remember never having an encounter with her, never meeting her in actual. But maybe, just maybe there might be something, that makes her more than just a dream. Although as for now, I am absolutely clueless like an illiterate beggar.

Many days later…

I saw her again. Not in my dreams but for real. She was sitting in the front row of my art class. The same art class where I always drew her from the memory of my dreams and today here she was, standing in front of me. As she turned back to talk to her friend, she saw me staring right at her and smiling in an awkward fashion. I knew that I appeared as a stalker upfront but yet I kept looking at her for my happiness knew no bounds. She looked at me awkwardly and silently left the class. Then it dawned upon me. I had actually been quite scary and went behind her to apologise.
“I’m sorry if I scared you but I honestly never meant to stare like that. It’s just that you look exactly like someone I used to meet.” I called her from the behind.
Suddenly, she dramatically stopped and turned, now facing me. “I exactly know what you mean.”
“You do?” I asked, getting quite confused since I hadn’t expected this reply. It was more of a “Get lost you creepy human or else I’ll file a complaint against you.” kind of expectation that I had.
“Yes I do understand.” she looked at me coldly and slowly removed a handbook and an album from her sling bag. “Here, have this. Read it carefully and come to me tomorrow.” she left from there, vanishing into the crowd leaving me curious about the contents in that handbook and in that album. What could possibly have been in there that she had it with her and made her act so indifferent? Did she already know who I was? Did we have a past?

I absolutely had zero idea about the contents of this diary so out of desperation I sat in the farthest corner of the college library and began reading it.

As I began with the first page I subconsciously blocked away my surroundings along with time that went by in a flash. It had already been 3 hours and here I was, still in the library, reading half of the diary.
“Library bandh karrne ka time ho gaya. Kal aao.”(It’s library’s closing time. Come tomorrow.) , the peon said to me.
I absent-mindedly replied, “Haan main bas jaa hi rahaa tha.”(I was just about to leave.) for my mind was still engrossed in that diary.

I boarded the last local train of that day and went home. “That girl was definitely playing games with me. I still couldn’t get a hang of what I read in there for the past few hours. Maybe I’ll come to know when I reach its end. Maybe. I hope I will or else she is gonna get hurt real bad.”

Yes. I know it sucks to be kept in suspense but I want you guys to understand that sometimes endings of certain stories are buried only in the reader’s mind and imagination as an individual. Do wait for its sequel, if you want me to post it or else maybe I’ll just leave the end to you. Design it your way. Okay? Now don’t kill me please.  🙂

I painted my love with fragments of my imagination and wish.
I painted my love with fragments of my imagination and wish.
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Author:

An art enthusiast.

2 thoughts on “Ecstasy.

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