They were like two distant waves on the endless watery
fabric of the sea. Waves! The turbulent sons and daughters in the lap of the
mystically musing father hidden somewhere deep down in the undisturbed silence
and bluish calm. Waves take birth with an airy titillation, sprinkle foam of joys
and sorrows, hit against each other, meeting orgasmic crests higher than the
sky and sorrowful troughs far deeper than the depths of the sea. Then they just
die out spreading the self willingly-unwillingly in the same primal substance,
the water. But then there are waves that just don’t die out that easily. On the
watery chessboard of sea they dream of a sea-less identity, a shelter
somewhere, a fellow soul-mate wave, one preceding as well following the other,
always pulling as well as getting pushed by each other, a couple. But sea being
sea, a disturbed mass, a delusional slayer of such harmless dreams, a sadistic
monster drawing its life force and excitement out of heartless mastication of
such soft hearts!!!!
Coming back to these two ways. Tossed up by teasing
circumstances, they had been suddenly spurt up in different corners of the sea.
Cast out in the dragnet of meaningless anonymity around, these two were looking
out for meaning to there being at all. Their souls standing at their toes at
the rising crests born of their puffed up enthusiasm to see beyond the fellow
wave-heads, above them to sight a fellow driving force that could push as well pulled
by them beyond the crashing wave-heads and sprouts of tiny wavelets being born
around.
They say as a wave you don’t move; just transfer the force
of your spirit to the next crest or trough. The tragedy of being a wave: you
cover distances, still you are at the same point. Across the cauldron of this
watery monotony, they got watered glimpse of each other as they were pulled and
pushed about like a helpless human in a crowd on rampage. They jumped a bit
more, these watery waves. The twosome who wanted to travel in a world of there
own, beyond this noise, listening to self as well as the other's dreamish
splash. The desperation for meaning, for shelter, for a travel hand in hand, of
being pushed and pulling at the same time, of hitting the other for more
substance to the self and the other as well. They could see each other's faces
from a distance.
So oblivious to the jostling futility around they just
struggled across the mess to meet each other, their hands stretched out in
agony and ecstasy at the same time. Wetter and perspiring than any other wave,
they then hit into each other. An ecstatic storm! Big bang as well as
non-existent at the same time! Their watery molecules seeping deep into each
other, unmindful of the transgressions from all around! The fusion! Streaks of
each others' identity groped farthest into the other like the most adventurist
tourists at heavenly strange places. A force! So powerful—born of such tiny
unison on the fathomless, massive bosom of sea! They travelled in combo.
Relation-less, just bound by a strange chemistry. Perplexed sea just stood
apart at the audacity, nothing else.
The waves travelled transferring crests and troughs of agony
and ecstasy to each other. Eyes shut to the futility. They knew sea is stormy,
the slayer of such freedom and individuality in its domain. But they had
decided to reach a meaning and a point of no return at a place where at least
dying mixed might be possible, if not more. So tossed by bigger storms and
destructive waves, they entwined like the folds of a rope, twisted protectively
around each other. Painful twists; but so solacing with the feeling of at least
saving that much portion of the companion wave! Angry sea bellowed devilishly
and gave the killing push. On the pining sand of a forlorn shore this
twisted-into-each-other mass of two waves was thrown out. It’s mixed, happily
dying water seeped into the sand. It but left a mark on the sandy apron of
time.
