Posted:
Not long ago, I received a request to pen another ff along the lines of "Irony of Fate"... I hadn't realized that the short writing had left an imprint as such and was humbled and perplexed as to what to write. Over some time, I've come up with a little idea of sorts that I am thinking to experiment with... On Kat Di/Billo/CATWOMAN's special request... aapke liye... I hope I do not disappoint. And I will say that this will be at max, four or five parts. Below is a teaser, lemme know what you all think...
"Ajnabee"
Ajnabee… ehsaas... apne... shehar... desh... duniya... Socha jaaye toh zindagi ka har pehlu, iss ek shabd se shuru hota hai... Ab chaahe woh jeevan ho yaan maut... aur chahe ek din se doosre din ka safar... Zindagi ki iss lehr mein hum najaane kitne naaye anubhav karte hain... logon se milte hain... kitne ankhoke rang mehsoos karte hain... Mushkilon se jhoojhte hain, jhulte hain... rote hain... aur rulaate hain. Aur kahin khushiyon ko apne daman mein bhar le te hain... sejh te hain... savarte hain... Kuch woh ajab rang bheegi khushbu ki tarah humesha mehkte hain... toh koi jaise path chadh mein panchi banke udaan bhar jaate hain.... Lekin har pannah, bharne se pehle... safed hota hai... Ajnabee...
Foreign[er]/Strange[er]... feeling... beloved... city... nation... universe... If we consider, each aspect of life starts with this word... Now this aspect could be life or death... or perhaps the journey from one day to another... In this continuation of existence, we take up so many new endeavours... meet people... feel the various shades of life... Encounter obstacles, counter them... weep... and make others do the same. And sometimes we embrace happiness... experience it... embark on maintaining it... Some of those strange colours leave a continual imprint as though an evergreen odour... while others take flight as the seasons change... In any case, prior to being inked on... each page remains blank/untouched.... Foreign[er]/Strange[er]...
****
As the metallic line continued its inevitable course round the steel plate, the broad skies reflected the different shades of colour... from the end of one day... to the beginning of another... Afterall, a new day was destined after the passing of the one left in the history pages...
Lifting her finely kohled eyes from her wristwatch, the woman tilted her eyes towards the open sky... It was passed two in the morning, and the rich texture of the vast space reflected the age of the day. Turning her attention back to the watch, her expressions suddenly changed from relatively blank, to fiery rage... Narrowing her gaze upon the object around her petite wrist, a moment passed as she continued to stare... A slight twitch in her jawbone became evident as she brought the other hand vehemently forward and pulled the ticking jewel off... plunging it somewhere into the strange night... What need had she for such things... She had no connection with anything... anyone... Ajnabee shehar... Ajnabee log... Ajnabee hasrat... She was but a mere... Ajnabee...
Cheers,
dc
Cricket
