The Past – Tanishq Khurana

An entourage of puzzles, he walked on the pavement with tears scorching his eyes like American napalm. With every step, the dust covered his feet, forging an unbreakable shield of togetherness. The air cut around his arms trying to push them back, just to feel itself getting pushed back by the force of his bravery. His hands clenched, holding purple fury balls of love. The earth trembled with every step of his, as she knew what he had become: an ensemble of an immortal might of compassion and an enchanted spell of faith. Oh, the sky knew, it will rain on an element tonight, a concept.

He now felt a sudden rush of nostalgia as he traced the rugged beige-coloured walls. He could smell the sweat that used to envelop his body when he very conveniently hid in small outlets that had been formed due to the inaccurate designing of the building. None of the other buildings present in his locality had such an outlet. Though it was small and was filled with loads of unexpected scrap materials, it made for a very good hiding spot when needed. He now remembered what he used to be. A soul trapped in reality and succumbed to the power of rationality.

He resumed the radio on his Walkman. With a short period of silence along with minute static, he now heard a sudden sentence of upper octave notes as a Yiruma hit started playing. He glanced at the sky and noticed how clear it really was. He stretched out his arms so as to fill them with emptiness. He closed his eyes to let the laughs, glances, screams and tears fill his mind. He thought of her, her incessant love for him. Every thought and memory he had of her rushed to the front of his head and covered his eyes, slowly, blinding them. He was no more there, sitting in that hiding spot, with his legs folded, cheeks dampened and an outrageous flow of tears covering his pale face. He was lost in his own fantasy world which is very commonly known as ‘The Past’.

He got back to dreaming about her. That gorgeous gift he had with him since birth. He called her “mom” usually but sometimes calling her out wasn’t even necessary. She was almost always there, beside him. She knew that she would not be around after his childhood. Unlike her, he didn’t know that one day she won’t be around to be his companion. He still remembered that day when he came back from scoring three goals– his personal best– and was welcomed into a house that had gone into mourning for the wonder that had left it, but had now forever become a part of it. His mother, although not around anymore, had left him something more precious than his very own life: memories of her existence.

Well, his childhood was much more than just his mother running her fingers through his soft hair and boiling milk for him in the morning before he sat in his Kindergarten bus. There was another female figure that influenced his childhood till its very closure. Her eyes had a dense look with a pearl at their core, just waiting, patiently that is, to be found and embraced for its beauty was immense. She had soft milk-like tender hands just waiting to be held and to be kissed gently. Her name’s a complete blur in his mind but every moment that he had spent with her is fresh in his mind like a wound feels after you sprinkle some salt on it. She was much like that, to be very frank. A wound more than a happy memory. She wasn’t the warmth of his eyes but rather the pain in his chest. She wasn’t the hand he could hold but rather the sewing needle that punctured his foot, broke and stayed there for a good amount of time to ensure that it had caused enough damage. She could have stayed but decided to leave. No goodbyes, no handshakes and no hugs. Just a sudden ache in his chest that would probably never fade. She was the hurricane that left his city in ruins and he hasn’t been able to build it back up.

His head could not handle this much pain and thus started to shake in disapproval. This fast and forceful movement shook him out of his dreaming. He didn’t expect to find himself in that spot but he was not that surprised. His face was quickly covered with a sad smile. He got himself up and walked out of that place. His face was soon covered in bright yellow, warm sunshine as he walked out of that building. The sun could not burn him up today. His body was already burnt with the fate that he had endorsed.

He walked with heavy steps and a light heart. He had left all his sadness in that hiding spot. The rain did pour, forming small puddles near the pavement. This was the perfect time for him to cry his eyes out. He walked away from there, far away. But the smell of his sweat and the ache of his memories still engrossed him in this fantasy world of his that he called “The Past”.

 

 

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