The perishable act of time will soon decease and she will soon be with Life..living it..There is a "send anyway" option on her cellphone which pops up whenever she sends an empty sms to someone..and everytime she saw that, she had an idea of a similar option for her existence..tagged "live anyway". She is my friend.
It was once, when sitting on the terrace of my old hostel, looking at the clouds..white..up above in the distant sky, i felt like talking to her of bliss and not the sorrows. I wanted to talk of those little pleasures of life which bring a dawning day to every endless night that i pass by. I wanted her to listen to me and find happiness for herself. Looking at her eyes, i spoke a few words but then we shared silence for hours.
All i said was..
My mom's eyes that continue to stare at mine when i laugh,when i smile...makes me feel a little proud. Pleasure is when a child smiles at me..pleasure is when i am thoughtful and someone in the crowd is able to notice. It is bliss when i read an old page of my diary which has sadness in it. Bliss is the pain that comes from expectations because i soon realise that it was stupid of me expecting something like that. Pleasure is just the old flat in Charukeshi apartments. Pleasure is in being sorry. Pleasure is having a grand reason to cry and being able to cry peacefully. Pleasure is when goodbyes are kept tacit. It is when you dont have to set limits for yourself and others do that. Pleasure is staring at the white clouds in the distant sky.
