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Hell is The Second Heaven!

She crawls around her dilapidated thoughts, unravished by time, people and places. The scars painted on her body, visible, are appealing and known; what lies beneath the skin of scars is unseen and untouched. There lies a hunger inside her to peel off the skin like the avocado and show the world the seed of unbearable agony and subjugation. The carnal desire for ripping off Adam’s rib to alter her own identity lurks in her head. Taking the serpent as her companion, she wills to vanquish the hell of clichés thoughts; this time the demon shall nurture her vengeance for the redemption of her body and her mind, and there’s a conscious voice in her head, voicing “Hell is The Second Heaven!”

~ lilac

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The Pandemic: Covid-19

Life was in a movement; it was indeed a roller coaster ride for some or may be for all; amidst the happy and the bleak days the whole human race tried to survive. Everyone, in one way or the other was prepared for their future, physically, be it mercenary or with the skills of survival of the fittest, but may be they were not prepared for it mentally. Thinking of death, one kept their age in count; though unwanted invasion of death haunted them, but they tried to hide it beneath their philosophical or scientific thoughts. There was a time when people partially had the potential to defeat death, but now it’s a big damn question to be answered by the humans to their own ‘self’.

The news of millions of deaths, now, flies like the swarm of bees all over the world, humming the cacophony of unbearable pain and the scornful echoes of the millions; every single day dead bodies get dumped without any prayer or without the last touch of their families; their bodies lay close to each other, yet beyond one’s reach. The world once was in silence, it had its own way of resting in peace amidst all the chaos created by the human race, but now it’s no more alike; the silence no more prevails. People are scared of the noises, the screeching sound of the humans in pain; they know nothing about death, but they know that it’s approaching to gulp them down. This time death has scheduled no time, no space, no gender, no age, no religion, but a simple strategy to kill through an undesired and unwelcomed virus.

Social distancing has taken the place of humanity; the changes are crucial. People fear to move, with every single step that they take outside, into the world, they feel like carrying a heavy weight on their back; they carry fear in their head and in their heart. Everyone wants to survive now, nobody welcomes this uncertain death; the philosophical or scientific thoughts no more can calm down their inner self that struggles between ‘Life’ and ‘Death’. Previously, life was all about being social, it was all about having an amiable communication with one another, but now it’s all about the distance; it’s all about standing six feet apart, avoiding communication as far as one can.

The hunger to survive is still on, with movement or without movement. Privileged and fortunate are those who can have their meals sitting together with their family, the one who are still able to fulfill the bag of their stomach with the amount of food that they need to survive. But how to explain the hunger of those who still sleeps with their empty belly? How to judge the agony of a mother who pulls her child close to her and cries out in hunger, in a need? How to critique the sorrow of a father who is now a jobless and a helpless person for the whole family? Now, social distancing is the only leftover humanity.

There is a constant battle between ‘the hunger to survive’ and ‘one’s willingness to give away to death’. Lockdown has taken the place of Imprisonment; how does it feel to be a prisoner, not behind the bars but inside one’s own home? Every single day seems to be like the ongoing preparation for a war, a war through which the human race needs to survive; the comrades are still fighting to save the troupe, keeping their own life in stake. The world is different now; now it’s a terrible beauty. Yet, there still lies a hope to which everyone clings to; one still dreams of living a life without being imprisoned and to sit in a room full of people to enjoy the favourite view, to feel at home. Every passing second has turned into a history, a history that will be written down in pages.

The battlefield is same for all and the war is still on;

~ lilac

The Hidden Words

She believes that the world is a beautiful painting, painted with the master strokes; an enticing visage to stare at; it is the most precious route to cherish life, travelling through the inside and the outside. She believes in the sublime imagination she has, she claims it to be exquisite and precious. She believes that life is a mystery, a mystery to be solved; it’s a treasure to be preserved, until death knocks at the door to carry away its identity.

She remembers, one fine sunny day, her father took her to the field and made her see how delicately a seed is being sown, how much dedication, devotion and patience is needed to nurture life. And when she came back home with him, he made her see the love of a mother towards her family; she was busy chopping vegetables and smiled back to them as soon as her eyes perceived those beautiful souls who mattered to her a lot. In that moment she felt like it was too much to take in, but she was happy knowing much about life from them.

She is sitting in the arm chair, taking the portrait in her hand and staring at the photograph where beautiful memories seem to linger. The waves of memories take her back to those days when she and her parents went to the beach, the one during her summer holiday. She was happy watching the waves coming back and forth to the shore; and every time it came, it left the slightest of its imprint. They both held her hands and made her perceive how life can be comprehended as an ocean, where the ebbs and flows are like the happiness and the sadness coming to the shore. They made her understand that every time when happiness or sadness knocks at the door, it leaves an imprint too. But then it depends on how she grapples with it; it depends on how she strikes out the sad imprints by replacing them with the waves of the happiest moments; it also matters how she rejoices her life, enjoying the best view, sitting by the shore.

She is gulped down by a melancholic incident which took place in her life , and the dreadful emotions doesn’t allow her to sleep peacefully .She has lost the most valuable person from her life; her parents died in a road accident when she was away from home for her further studies. To tread on the path of life without them was not an easy task for her, and it still isn’t. Most of her time, she spends in isolation; her only companions are the memories which keeps on lingering inside the house and in the places where they have been. Every weekend she goes to the beach and sits by the shore all by herself and reminisces those precious moments spent with them. At times, her body becomes heavy with the load of the pain she carries of not having them around; her heart is being ripped off bit by bit and deep down the void kills her.

As she keeps a faith in her beautiful imagination, in her painted dream, she tries to erase the imprint of sadness from her shore with the waves of happiness. She reminds herself about her father’s words of nurturing life in a better way, so that it can bear the best for her in the future. She reminds herself of the selfless love of her mother, and then she realizes the alarming need of loving her ‘self’, to build a new home inside her mind and her heart for people to reside. She holds on to her dream of being a dreamer, to paint the world with her imagination and through her words.

She is ready to face failure, to destroy her first piece of painting or to mess up with the first writing that she pours down from her pen. She believes that with every destruction and failure, a beauty will be born, priceless and of worth. All through her life she kept her imagination hidden behind the walls of fear, but now she seeks to breakthrough, allowing the imagination to walk through the door of her mind and wander about, with her words being laid on pages, and the pen being her mighty warrior.

Now, she awaits for her masterpiece;

~ lilac

A Cursed World

Not so far in the near future, a boy named Arjun roams around in a deserted land with no one by his side, searching for a droplet of water in the barren land which was once a grassland filled with nature’s blessings. With his every single step he gets weaker and weaker, marching towards his own death. Resting near a hill, he has a glimpse of the past beauty of the world, a world where peace and happiness resided with no cost to fulfill. He still remembers his first breath in this world, being awake from a long nap from his mother’s womb; wonders about the school going days when he had to wear a mask due to the increase in pollution from the factories; the sky was concealed with the emission of the gases, but the grassland, the water, and the people still existed. Albeit, the people survived, but there was nothing much left to discuss about.

Back then he felt like a lone survivor to a zombie apocalypse; though it was not a zombie apocalypse but an increase in ‘Global Warming’. Every iceberg melted and formed a tsunami which gulped down everything on its way, ravaging the beauty. The people knew that if they don’t get hold of the situation then one day they would have to face something worse and terrible, but they acted like dumb puppets. The feeling inside cannot be expressed, but in those times the motivation for controlling the pollution was a temporary thing; it was just for a moment. As soon as the motivation ceased to be in existence, the mind got deflected and people got busy in their daily labour. No one was perturbed about the ‘Earth’, the one who was in pain, who had given so much to the human race; they kept on exploiting the mother earth to their best. The number of people who deserved the pain
were enjoying their lives, but those who should not was suffering the most because of those elite exploiters. The worst part was not that they belonged to the upper hierarchy, but because they were least worried about the world that was losing its vitality to survive in. There was ‘depletion’, ‘deduction’, and ‘decreasing’ in every inch. The world was destructed; nonetheless the humans raced technically but those technologies could not withstand against the nature.

And the day came when the earth showed its temper to the human kind for the cause through which they made her suffer, by declining her health. The eye bursting storms struck the people and no one could withstand it; it swept away everything that came on its way. Be it human or animals, no one was bestowed with mercy. The next morning, the sun showed his rage upon them with the sharp heat that turned everything into a barren land, and dried up the streams and the rivers. Arjun was the only person who saved his body from the burning heat as he covered his body with a thick layer of cloth.

Now, Arjun prays on behalf of the whole world, not to the Almighty but to the mother earth; he perceived her temper once, filled with rage. The world has turned into a cursed place; the worst outcome is due to the negligence of the people towards the place where once one used to dwell in happiness. But now it is crowded with diseases and death. Eventually, the end has arrived; a revolution is to be faced. The earth will soon be covered with dark shadows of destruction lingering around; Arjun doesn’t know to what extent he will be able to survive, but he vows that he will pray till his last breathe, seeking for forgiveness on behalf of the whole human race.

Moral: Act before it’s too late.

~ parthapratim

A Convention

Following the tradition of surviving one’s own life, we are always in a convention; we try to escape and that’s honestly true, but escaping is easy, the hardest part is staying free. Wearing this human skin, we are all in one boat, it’s like ‘We’ re on the same boat brother’. Tomorrow when you wake up as a millionaire, don’t bless him; if tomorrow you end up on the street, don’t curse him; let your skins understand that this voyage is not only yours, but of people like you in infinity. The day when we were all born, we made a convention to ourselves, to dream, to hope, to expect, to walk on the road, dive deep, most importantly to survive by walking the line. And if tomorrow you feel the sun is too harsh on your skin, or the rain is peeling it off, remember you have a word to keep : To hope, to dream, to expect, to walk on the road, dive deep, most importantly to survive by walking the line.