Do not fall in love with people like me. We would write you letters in languages you are unversed and tug them to balloons to let them go and try their hand in conquering the destiny. Even if the letter doesn't reach you, peace would be all that we'll care for. When you'll be a caterpillar, we would poke you to eat those mulberry leaves and then wait for you to form a cocoon. After you fly away with distinct mosaics on your wings, we'll knit sweaters from the little wool you left behind and wait for you to try them on. We are untrustworthy. And that's the reason why we'll write odes to February, singing of the unjustice done to it by granting unequal days in the month of October. And, while it would be October who's gonna die a heroic death, we would cry upon how we'll be bidding goodbye to winters in February. I have never seen black tulips, you see and still I'll be telling of all the seven different coloured flowers that I differentiated just by the fragrance.
Also, fantasies are our favourite. We would mark any upcoming date on the calendar with a red sketch pen and hope for something, anything different to happen. And with this, I would tell you that this is the reason why you'll see us smiling even on Mondays. We love stars, the reason of which we'll tell you is the hope they carry. But, the actual reason behind it would be the shapes they carry. We are not able to recognise any of the constellations and still we'd point out at the night sky, calling out the most random name, say the Orion to you. Then what shapes do we talk about? It's the shape of the star, as an individual. If looked upon closely, each one of them twinkles at a different time and hence lives in a different dimension of its own. We would tell you to read out love poems to us, just because we are afraid to break our curiosity on our own. Poets write love poems in three phases : before love, during love and after love. The first two phases talk about love but the last one, mind you, doesn't exist. The concept of after love is as much a myth as after life. If you believe it exists, it does, if you don't, it doesn't.
Our favourite game is "make and break". You see, I would see if the pathway is clear and climb to the uppermost terrace where plant pots are kept. I would try to take equal proportions of soil from each of the pot to maintain justice but it always ends up in imbalance. Nevertheless, after I have my main ingredients ready, I bring water and make whatever is possible for my non-artistic hands. Sometimes, just a laddoo or a couple of clay dolls. I remember my Mom making these for a festival. And, after I have my eyes filled with these creations, I would break them and transport the taken soil back to its original place, if possible. Most of the times, we think it to be soil erosion and leave the work in between, saying it's murky, which actually is magic.
Do not trust everything we say. Partly, because it may be made up of scars and we'd call it the craters of moon. Do not fall in love with people like me ~ because we, ourselves see what we seem.
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