Voice of hearts

I've kept your photograph on my study table. Today when my eyes fall over your picture, it becomes difficult to control an urge to hold you for one last time. After our last phone call, I'd never imagined that phone calls can become a far-fetched dream. Everybody’s worst nightmare can become your reality.

Last morning a kitten sat outside my kitchen with longing eyes and I started to wonder what you would have done. Everyone else wants me to go back, I know you would have never wanted that. Once again over everyone's opinion, I chose you, even when you're not here.

I chose you. If we were given a choice nothing like this would happen. Everything seems so unfair. But who has fair life? So, there's no point in crying. But how long can you hold tears? 

Today, I sat down at my study table to pour out all my emotions. But the pen stuck at a dot. It simply refused to move. Nothing in my head was making sense. I know a lot of things we write, say or think don’t make any sense. They don’t have to make any sense. In this world of logic, I think I’m losing my imagination. These kinds of days are common but how can I stay away from writing when I can't share my emotions with others? I opened the window only to see the grey skies and shut it again annoyingly. 

A voice fell over my ears and made me open the window again. There’s a saint ( we call him Baba). He usually comes to our street singing over the tune of Harmonium and takes whatever people give him. He never asks for anything himself, he doesn’t even care. I’ve never been able to decode what he sings. His singing never makes any sense to me. Maybe it doesn’t make any sense to him too. He seems content and all that matters. Although I can hum the tune of his song perfectly. So today when I heard his harmonium even from far I started to hum along with the tune. I again picked up my pad and pen to write down. This time pen started to move rhythmically.