The Monologue (The One of Turqoise Eyes - 5)

"It took you a while, my love. Strange that I mention a notion of time, for all this while time had been buried within me; I guess even time won’t be able to answer since when. Not because it does not know the answer, but because the answer needs to be spoken and I don’t permit anyone but myself to be heard and spoken. You can call me full of arrogance and insolence, but you won’t find a better lord of one’s self than me. I am, as they say, 'Nothing' and by virtue of being 'Nothing', I command an aura and presence, in front of which everyone else's presence not just dwindles down or fade away, but submits and submerges."

"But my love, you are not amongst those who got lost within my labyrinths. In fact, I am the one who is losing ‘me’ in your presence. And I wonder if it’s because you compel me to a situation like this or is it that I want to myself trudge this path of self destruction. And yes, destruction is not such a nice word to describe the whole sea of emotions that drowns me now. Who will believe this scenario, perhaps no one, because no one exists. How I wish that there was someone to witness this special occasion. Perhaps this is the only time I regret my entirety, my completeness."

"In some sense I am probably wrong to brag about my completeness. I always thought that I am complete, absolute in every sense and respect. All the more reason to be surprised at the state in which I find myself now, for perhaps there was always a yearning existing somewhere, a yearning whose presence was oblivious to me. How can that be? Perhaps it was easier for your presence to permeate even Nothingness, otherwise how could it ever happen to someone like me, the one who has made oneself devoid of all that is tangible and perceptible."

"You won’t believe if I tell you how happy I was with my mundane existence. You can call it life if you want, but fact is that I never even allowed my breath to escape from myself. And then it all changed. Not suddenly though. I cannot say if there was any sign or indication of it. No never. Not even when you stood on the bridge gazing intently at me. Not then. Not even when you opened your arms, perhaps to embrace me and took that leap, I believe a leap of faith, in expectation of me reciprocating. But somehow, somewhere amidst all this that change happened. I engulfed you or perhaps you engulfed me, who knows. But now I find myself melting within you. My vast nihility, my nonexistence is suddenly gaining a shape. Inch by inch, word by word, moment by moment, I conform, I become; I die. Yes I am approaching my death. And yet I have no qualms, fortunate is a lover who gets such a death, death in one's lover's arms. And as they used to say in those folktales of once, those which all got lost to me, even death couldn’t keep them apart; for they have by then become one."

"I give myself to you, my love, wholly, completely, thoroughly. From now on my love, this Nothingness ceases to exist for the world, for I have found a new existence, within you".

The Rainbow Bridge over Nothingness (The One of Turqoise Eyes - 4)

The Dream (The One of Turqoise Eyes - 3)
 
The One of Turqoise Eyes - 2

The One of Turqoise Eyes -1

The Rainbow Bridge over Nothingness (The One of Turquoise Eyes - 4)

It was morning when he woke up. Lazy eyes, swollen and red due to lack of sleep and tired of holding eternity, caught the first glimpse of the rainbow bridge. The wind was soft and soothing, bit cold but that was due to the night which never left before leaving its mark on the morn of the following day(s). There was light mist around and the bridge hung in the thin veil of the fog. He could see the peak, way beyond the green valley on the other side of the bridge. The rainbow bridge would soon be without its colors, all draining one after another as Sun would raise high up in the azure. The skies were already reddish orange, and the Sun, a baby pink reminiscent of glories, whose presence had become so commonplace now.
‘Now’. What was now? Not the bridge, not its colors; not even its name. It faded slowly, from the view, from the landscape, from his eyes. The day was clear and sun no longer pink. The bridge was away from its colors and what remained of it was what always existed, carefully placed stones, tied and hung in that space by who knew whom. Chiseled stones welcomed his slow and unsure steps. “Are you comfortable”, they asked. He should have replied but he didn’t. No one knew the significance of these steps of his, not the stones, not the bridge or the peak. The sun and the faded colors didn’t knew it either.
He continued his slow walk, seldom looking around or paying attention to the talks of the stones who continued with their questions; “Are you comfortable”, “What took it so long for you to come”, “Are you heading to the valley and the peak beyond”.
The sun was now on the other side of the bridge, watching him as patiently as ever. He had passed the middle of the bridge when he noticed that nothing existed beneath the bridge. This was a bridge over nothingness; dark, ever growing and encompassing nothingness. A nothingness way beyond the Sun and its golden hue, nothingness where even night was afraid to go. Where did then the Night slept?
Was it this vast nothingness in which melted the colors of the rainbow bridge?
As his turquoise eyes met the nothingness from far above the bridge, the air became melancholic. The stone voices grew thin and then finally died down on their own, assimilating perhaps in the nothing. Sun once again shifted it stance and now hung close to his head, right above him.
His turquoise eyes saw his shadows cast over the surface of the nothingness, some even piercing deep inside it. His eyes had seen a lot and held even more. All that; the cave, those yellows, that ember and all else was a part of him, his eyes and this nothingness.
He lifted his eyes, away from his shadows, away from the nothingness beneath him. Over his shoulder hung the sun, who was to die soon one more of his eternal silent deaths. Far away in the distance was the peak and in between lay the valley. All of them were silent, listening to the melancholy which was his, looking at his somber turquoise eyes and his face on which had arrived the shades of rainbow,

An Indigo sad in the company of a Violet
A Yellow and A Red, part of his nothingness, adopted and parted with
An Orange of the dying evening Sun
A Green of that jungle, that lied buried in the Blue
A Blue that was eternal.

His turquoise eyes looked around, casting themselves on the Sun, the valley and the peak beyond, the bridge; his eyes looked at them all. And then they looked down again at the nothingness smeared with his shadows.

From above the rainbow bridge, he opened his arms and jumped to the embrace of nothingness.

The Dream (The One of Turquoise Eyes - 3)

They passed through the skin
as they marched towards the cave
with their sharpened teeth
cluttering vociferously.

The voices within
and around
have long been dead,
silence resided there
with fellows no one knew;
but they were not the explorers
inquisitors.

Hungry shadows lurked around
shadows without sun
shadows that knew no moon.

They might have been singing a song
out of tune
and soon they were
in front of the cave.

He saw them go inside
one by one
cluttering their teeth
singing their song,
he saw them go inside
with his Turquoise eyes,
Those eyes of his
that shed green tears,
He saw them
disappear,
one by one;
hunger ,
shadows,
song;
All were for his Turquoise eyes
to behold.

There’s a cloud
Somewhere,
a sun and a moon as well,
day and night
and
the Cave;
dark and silent it was,
dark and silent it might be.

He moves away
slow and staggering
crushing his shadows repeatedly
eyes open to himself
but closed to vision.

Do watch him go
Do keep an eye
Warn him

“Run”.
“But I have no fear”.
“Run”.
“From whom”?
“Run”.
“Why”?
“Run”.
“I won’t”?


“Then, perish”.
“……………”.


“I will”.

The One of Turquoise Eyes (2)

Far away in the distance, where the mountain took a dip in the blues, he sits staring at the cave. His eyes burned ember. He hasn’t slept for a while. Nights don’t remember if they have seen him sleeping. What is he doing there?
From inside the cave, he could hear the voices patting the corridors of his mind. His head is heavy with the lightness of these sounds. How many? He looks endlessly, his infinite gaze fixed on the cave. Perhaps he is waiting patiently for someone, that’s what this night sang. This night, tonight, dark, dim and lazy, like every night, a messenger of the day, a careless, casual messenger of the day.
There’s a cloud floating by. It stops as its drowsy eyes catch a glimpse of him. Who sent this cloud? A grey cloud, whose grey is prominent against the blue of the heavens. There have been no clouds since, no one knows since when. There have been no tears either. But this cloud saw him and stopped, and for a while everything stopped, everything. His eyes were still active though in their never ending, relentless gaze. They realized that there were no voices anymore and yet they didn’t bat the eyelids. They continued like before, persistent as always and still active in those moments of eternal inactivity. How much was eternal? For how long did the cloud stopped?
Inside of the cave burned bright, as if that yellow moon had taken refuge there. His eyes had noticed this change, for they now reflected the yellow. And as yellow started filling the spaces of his eyes, out came the ember that has been gracing them all this while. Ember flowed out of yellow eyes and the cave burned yellow without those voices that existed till that moment when everything stood still.
The cloud was no where to be seen, it had disappeared. Nights continued with their boring routine, passing without any cause or concern. They bothered for neither his eyes emptied of ember nor for the bright yellow that now occupied the same. But his eyes remained intent on gazing through the cave. They didn’t knew the reasons, they weren’t aware of the purposes, his purposes that is. Someone had asked, some time, “What’s your purpose”? “Seeing”.

How much?
How long?
What?
Why?

He got up and walked, away from the cave; Eyes closed, Yellow enslaved, Ember abandoned.

The One of Turquoise Eyes (1)

When they see him they will realize that he has not changed much, pretty much same eyes, same nose and same curly hairs. How much time has passed, hmm; no one knows. They wonder, how much time. A lot is what they can think of, precisely how much, no one knows. They had given up the concept of tracking time long ago, ages ago will probably be the right word. That was their way of defeating time. Time was anyway a concept, defeating a concept seems so abstract now. Time was an absurd concept anyways.

His eyes were blue, actually turquoise. They say he was son of the green jungle that lay buried in the depth of the blues. On a certain night, he would just wander alone near the shore and his eyes, those turquoise eyes, will shed tears, green tears. They will all cry then, for no reasons known. Nobody ever asked him the reasons; and he, he never bothered about them. But that was all a long while ago. One fine day, or was it the afternoon; no one recalls the exactitude of that moment, but they recall that one fine moment (time, they sometime wonder if they really defeated it), ages ago, he was gone, just like that, without any premonition, perhaps without reasons as well, he just left.

They had not sent any search parties, they didn’t even worried, those were not the sentiments they shared/felt anyways. The only thing they missed, were the green tears which made them cry, for reasons they never knew. And although they missed crying, it was not that they knew that they missed it. They would go to the shore on the nights when the moon would be yellow and dimly lit and they will keep looking at the ocean, its blueness, its vastness. In the morning, when last of the stars took a holy dip in the blue ocean, they will return, feeling uneasy, incomplete and unsure of what is it that they were searching for, looking for.

All this was long ago; very, very long ago, for now it was a ritual, to wait for the moon to be yellow, stars to take a dip in the blueness and return engulfed with uneasiness, incoherency. Nobody had realized that all this while, their own eyes haven’t watered, that they have not cried, wailed and mourned. Those were emotions of past, emotions that lied buried away from the present (Time, they had thought they had defeated it), emotions they were unaware of, untouched from. Amongst those nights of yellow moon, were the days of golden hue and crimson shadows that filled them with life. It was a set routine, a day soaked with crimson, followed by a moon of varying shades and colors. There were intermittent days of violet as well, but that was when they wanted it to be that way, and those days were too less and limited. On days like that, there will be clouds in the sky, veiling the moon and its blueness. Actually these clouds will engulf the moon in the night itself and no matter how hard the moon tries, it will not be able to make itself free after being entangled amongst these clouds (unless they wanted to set it free). And then, the crimson shadows arrived, bathing the blueness of the moon; the moon will cry and threw tantrums but the clouds wont let him go; till the day becomes violet.

Those days were few and far between, but those were the occasions when they recalled faintly that there was once someone amongst them whose eyes were turquoise. They didn’t remember those green tears, but they had faint remembrances of him, he who had left long ago.