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She speaks…

Men have failed in their repeated attempts in defining love and have described it as undefinable but who are men if not rapists who have continually plundered this world while unconsciously referring to nature around them or the earth they are living on as ‘she’ . May be, if there was a greater justice above all which some call karma, then everyone would come under one single crime of being a rapist.  Some men hide under the masks of science and have spoken words which talk about how greater development is achieved but again, who are men if not empty vessels with words just to make some noise?  Words, which, seemingly, cut through anything but not Love! Some have described it to be the purest of emotions which when conquers man makes him as pure- dangerously pure- as dangerous as a man’s dream, the dreams which persist even after man’s death, the death which can carry with it anything but not a dream and definitely not love. Love and dream move together hidden inside the cavern of one’s heart under the grooves always being dormant, sometimes afraid and often angry of the man who forgets them for the universe as he is naive about what she(universe) wants, she who gives man whatever he wishes for but still doesn’t get from man what she craves for, the craving for a world of dreams and love which will end in peace and results in her bliss, the bliss which every word echoed by ‘LOVE’ or every spark ignited by a ‘DREAM’ generates, every ounce of which making her happier.

(A train arrives, in fact, appears, from nowhere as if it’s always present here and moving along with all of us yet keeping itself unseen so as to avoid getting meddled with.)

“It’s not Love”, she says trying to sound philosophical,

“when you just love each other’s looks or bodies or cash or in that case, even each other’s brains.”

And she adds on saying,

“It’s love only when you love each other’s dreams, ie when you are willing to sacrifice yourselves for the dreams of your loved ones and in that case, fulfill their dreams if they die and every such permutation in this world makes me have wollycobbles, i mean collywobbles, hui hui hui.” sounding hui-ppier.

But she is like any other woman whose moods keep dwindling because of thoughts, the thoughts which, now, speak of the instances written in her diary of trauma where she repents giving a chance for the man to evolve, the evolution which has done horrible things to her, the things which I can’t even speak here.

The thoughts never end up plainly, do they?

In a train of locks, she sat presumably with monkey-like creatures and others, passing one lock after the other, the locks which when opened become the key for the next lock and so on, optimistic of the fact that she wouldn’t die from more insanity, both her’s and men’s.

“Have you ever wondered why monkeys are so furious at men, not just once but always?” she asks, looking at monkeys, this time rather impatiently as if in a hurry.

The  train, her only companion, started to whistle indicating her departure, making her more impatient and like every other time he(train) asks her,

“Should I destroy them, my lady? I don’t need a weapon, i don’t have to move, i don’t need to order someone, i don’t need to request as well, i don’t need to hurt someone or look them in their eyes, which I reckon is the most painful thing while killing and yet I can finish the entire damn thing sitting here. By the way, who are men, my lady, if not fools who think of holding me in their clocks? Their naivete makes me puke. I wonder if the day will ever come when they realise that i am the Apocalypse. I am the end and you are beginning. One word of yours, my lady, and that’s what all i need. You can start everything again.”

“No!” she replies him because she knew she would miss her only companion when he brings the end. Also, she is a generous mother who created man in her greed of more friends, without being satisfied with species up to monkeys. And monkeys have been furious because they know that the man is a traitor for the fact that a man is a man.

And the train calmed himself down and loved her companion for how kind she was to him. He was willing to sacrifice himself to end her suffering and she, on the other hand, has always been suffering to protect her only friend’s life. Don’t you think this is Love?

Finally, as the train geared up to disappear completely, she realised that she didn’t conclude her speech which, she hoped, would cut through at least one soul.

And she continued,

“Dreams need love for them to get fulfilled and once these grey cells, love and dream, of the universe get active, they would form a deadly couple even with the world at stake, the revenge they seek would be apocalypse, the apocalypse which would destroy all the evil including the one is man’s head, the only villain.”,  muttering every word, bit by bit, silently but strikingly, as she is driven back into her veil by the train.



I am Sriram, the man who's gonna be the pirate king. A conversation means a lot. People with dreams mean more. Stories, an obsession. Still in pursuit of happiness.

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