The scribbler in me was dead long back but is resuscitating yet again. Is it a crime to revive the killed remains? In the world of utter Chaos, we are the tenants of our own place. We move from place to place in search of solace. I had moved too, from one left to the other routes and reached to the place where I kept all my phrases. They were present in the exact state, incomplete and distant. Termites didn't bother to eat them. For their tooth, these were yet tasteless. Unheard stories made up the queues. They got ready to be coloured in hues. The poems were eager to be rhyme zoned. For some reasons, they got postponed. 'It's been a long time, I haven't seen the rain, Without the drain, lumps become the pain'. This is how the beginning of a page read. There were more few. Those were gasping like ones born new. The ambience seemed the exuberant. Somebody was asserting all the rants. The spirit welcomed for their mate. Perhaps, the traveller's visit out of the fate. Away from the life, it was the crazy sojourn. They marked me a participant in their mourn. One by one the memories began. Those moments were gone, all did regain. It was a tryst after a long time, with mundanity, agony, and void imbibed. We didn't take up any complaints. A memorable occasion shouldn't be disdained. Not just them, I felt life. Together we all, took a ride. Time and tide wait for none. It goes relative faster with your loved ones. I am a transient, I was aware of. Howbeit the reluctance for letting me go off. The words got gathered to be sketched in desperate that scribbling the lament my ink could fade. It's better not to shackle someone in rope while they come with so much hope. But to lie is also a sin, especially to the one who is your kin. In whom, I safeguarded all my phases and who advocated all my cases. The one who was with me all around when not even my shadow, I found. And I know, they will hear when speaking to the world, I fear. Eloping from the sight, I surmised. The complete departure can be compromised. So, the journey of me to me, I described. With little strength I put up my pen and scribed -
