Wrapped in the wistful fog, I sat down on the mused-pavement for long hoping to figure out the apprehensions arising within me. The sense of agony breezed out every single thought of running away from the chill that was enveloping me. I was precipitating. My hands and feet were numbed. My throat muscles were tightening. I was gasping for breath.
The boundless shadow around my nerve was engulfing my sense of being alive. I was dead yet my brain was unprepared to accept that my soul was steadily escalating between the two worlds: the world which I timelessly enjoyed of being and the world which was as real as of being.
There was complete emptiness around me. I was hallucinating. The words, the smell, the touch, the ecstasy, the agony, the hope, the death, the life… everything was revolving around me. I could not rationalise that I was overrun by the adrenalin rush of a very familiar shadow. I was in mental fist.
I don’t know for how long I was emotionally lying in the pool of much-awaited felicity. Had not the warm droplets came out my screaming-soul through my eyes, I would not have realised that I was still alive. Regaining my being as real, I laid on the mused-pavement on that winter night, though I was numb with cold, till she echoed: “Go home”. I just stand up on my feet hoping to see the person who spoke to me. It was all in vain. No one was there. Not a single soul was visible. All I could see was fog. Everything was completely empty. I just kept asking from myself where, why and how I was there. Where is she? All I could feel and see was fog. I kept asking what happened to me.
I was in complete delirium. I rushed towards the road looking for a living soul who can drive me to my home. Seeing a sign an auto I rushed towards it and asked him: “Would you drive me to Kalkaji?” A man of around forty sitting on a driver seat said: “Hundred Rupees.” I said ok fine lets go…
