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I saw more carrom boards on terraces than ev

I saw more carrom boards on terraces than evening tea on balconies, for everyone wants to talk, for God's sake! Now, no one wants to enjoy alone, with the self time anymore coz already we are living our lives in isolation, afterall! We are living a part of our lives, on an unknown island with a half broken door which falls down, everytime when the wind hits the shore, as the depression and we try to stand it upright, intact and still coz we breathe through it. There comes noisy waves, ebbing our way to reach the shore and we play the music on our tongue, while we talk to ourselves, to abandon the words, once, we were given. We have been speaking our own language of survival, before the evolution took us to caves and we spoke so primitive, that no one understood of what we were saying. We all wanted to be heard but the only friend, I had turned his back and I saw him walking through the broken door, where the streets crosses, to his home and since then, he never returned back. Shuddering the plight of my story to be listened, I recorded my journals and put them under the bed, so no one finds about it but as an unknown life, to get written by someone, someday. And when the auditions took place for the role, they would find none coz I never gave what they wanted from me. All the actor they found were muted and they didn't understood the dialogues, when the director ordered these lines, to repeat again and again: "I am sorry, I should be here when you wanted me but I was taken aback by the conversations we never had, and now when I want them, there is none but certainly, now there lives more lives in my home than ever". The island always remained sort of less conversations, but since, there was life going on. I talked to the waves which were like hurricane inside the box. But I always kept the box opened and at distance, for the door was enough broken that if anyone passes through my room, it would be easily recognisable as a darned sock and I always wear shoes with socks but never anyone get to know, the toe is torned apart and I carry it confidentially, wherever I go. There a lot more happening than the pandemic going on in my books. I woke up everyday to see the screens flashlights moving from one room to other, as if in search of something lost. Undeniably, I see their forfeited faces trying to find the reasons of distancing each other in the conversations, they have with strangers but suddenly I find them lost happy, for they wanted to be heard forgetting the other wanted the same but eventually the person they are talking to, tells them the same story of searching something and telling them,
I saw more carrom boards on terraces than evening tea on balconies, for everyone wants to talk, for God's sake! Now, no one wants to enjoy alone, with the self time anymore coz already we are living our lives in isolation, afterall! We are living a part of our lives, on an unknown island with a half broken door which falls down, everytime when the wind hits the shore, as the depression and we try to stand it upright, intact and still coz we breathe through it. There comes noisy waves, ebbing our way to reach the shore and we play the music on our tongue, while we talk to ourselves, to abandon the words, once, we were given. We have been speaking our own language of survival, before the evolution took us to caves and we spoke so primitive, that no one understood of what we were saying. We all wanted to be heard but the only friend, I had turned his back and I saw him walking through the broken door, where the streets crosses, to his home and since then, he never returned back. Shuddering the plight of my story to be listened, I recorded my journals and put them under the bed, so no one finds about it but as an unknown life, to get written by someone, someday. And when the auditions took place for the role, they would find none coz I never gave what they wanted from me. All the actor they found were muted and they didn't understood the dialogues, when the director ordered these lines, to repeat again and again: "I am sorry, I should be here when you wanted me but I was taken aback by the conversations we never had, and now when I want them, there is none but certainly, now there lives more lives in my home than ever". The island always remained sort of less conversations, but since, there was life going on. I talked to the waves which were like hurricane inside the box. But I always kept the box opened and at distance, for the door was enough broken that if anyone passes through my room, it would be easily recognisable as a darned sock and I always wear shoes with socks but never anyone get to know, the toe is torned apart and I carry it confidentially, wherever I go. There a lot more happening than the pandemic going on in my books. I woke up everyday to see the screens flashlights moving from one room to other, as if in search of something lost. Undeniably, I see their forfeited faces trying to find the reasons of distancing each other in the conversations, they have with strangers but suddenly I find them lost happy, for they wanted to be heard forgetting the other wanted the same but eventually the person they are talking to, tells them the same story of searching something and telling them,
meeraali9245

Meera Ali

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