Waves in Love

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.