7

Literature classes have always  been fun. They are completely different when you consider it your profession. First step to read the book, analyse and critical analyse. Isint life too? As I mentioned in my first story, I was in depression. I had lost everything. I was free, the kind of free I never wanted. That was my story a month ago. Now when I analyse it , it was depressing, troublesome, still and unconscious of the future. Critically it the end of my flight. It was barren, savage. I was heathen in my own house. I think that is the only problem of humans. Humans tend to jump on conclusion so very fast. If you fail in one, then there is no way out. Shoot. Stop. Analyse the larger picture, don’t stop at the basics. People are anyway going to judge you.  A month later I am in a different city. Different people, a different me. Everything has changed, but for what? Encouragement, shelter, experience. This is life, a critical analyses of your own soul and experiences. This is life, a beautiful present to be opened at the perfect time. 

I called my mother , she jostled around the words. Calling out her condition I asked how is there? One word Stuck. 70th day of no work , that was what people tagged the paradise on Earth. Kashmir. 

Unfortunately it was bullets who ruled and people were laid. 

I long for some familiarity

Arriving at the airport at 3 :0 clock in the afternoon my eyes met with my past and the flashback was certain . flashback of my life ,the moments i have rejoiced ,the moments i have felt in pain ,not because i was leaving my homeland for further studies but because i could see my dad for the last time till january or maybe the time i’ll get back to my holidays ,and for that matter i had left my mother inside the house saying my last goodbye and regretting about this decision of my life .

but life as they say has both happy endings and some disastrous too ,and this ending had both . but i wasn’t leaving my parents for no reason , i had a well settled plan and for that the fortuitous result  would make them the only king and queen for i left them for the higher studies of mine and not that i could bow their head in humility never ever .

so living my past 18 years in north of  india kashmir , where the mountains speak the story ,where sky has no boundaries and the air could speak to human i set for my lifes other half journey in somewhere south of india called Delhi the capital .i hate airports for one reason that they are so fake ,people greet ,people separate but none would know when would they return back and arrive back .but the only thing that is guaranteed is the fakeness in emotions and the so called love that they show to each other.

so i landed somewhat around 5;0’clock in delhi and set for a journey that was unknown to me .i saw many faces at the spot  but none looked more familiar than my own blood and family.the thing i was sure about was that i would be missing them a lot .like the hometown of mine where eyes met with a serene beauty on the first hand itself,where in the crowd of people the heart is calmed for the weather is perfect ,i had wore my shoes in the wrong direction for neither their where  familiar faces nor their was  the calmness my heart had longed for . but then i was like let go .

life is all about chances ,like which we are unaware of . but the thing that is known is the amount of pressure it would bind us with .there are going to be farewells and arrivals but one thing to be sure is of the shrinking life that has continued since ages and we are no different . do not lose people who love you extraordinary but love them even more so that distances do not matter when separations arrive between them . Image