Scars of an old solider

The frail wind blowing outside was nice to watch, something about clouds makes one go so comfortable, it soothes the soul.

Yeah like that one touch of that someone when you are lying down on a lazy Friday afternoon, in a strange guesthouse on a sultry backwater town, a strike raging outside .

Have we grown so apart, like the silence after a gush of wind leaves a place breathless, don’t know.
Regretting everything that has happened so far, they were so afar inside that moment, the silence just like the distance was just killing them. She would never understand India he has said, and i thought, maybe you are wrong old friend? maybe he wasn’t completely right.

This country is a bloody heady mix of god knows what? so many thing happening so many souls some lost some not so lost, maybe the land itself is lost somewhere between the previous centuries and the coming, in a sea of sight, sound, smell, taste, feel we do tend to get lost, if you are born here you are immune to it to the extent that you don’t sense it normally but when you do you will be on some trip yourself, maybe its not even the country, maybe its just life.

Contradictions everywhere, like the questions in his mind, were he ready? no maybe he wasn’t, but life is about choices, but does he regret it, yes many times he had questioned was it worth it? No? Oh wait maybe a yes.. He knows his heart fought for it as did hers maybe?
She is so quiet , all her thoughts lost in herself like that photo of her’s where she is standing on a hillock, maybe it was a cloud, cool morning or a mellow evening when the sun is coming down.

The Spanish chika, right there all that attributes were there, passionate about life, about a sunshine in the next morning, hope in beauty of life, resilience that defined her the lust in that slim, tender, sweet body of hers, lastly that soft confused stupid girl who would plonk on the floor, because she missed a transport and panic, that part of her brought out a smile in him.
She was sweet, this little hellcat, a nice soul and a nicer person, his little cookie monster.

How could he tell her he was someone who was in love with the world, twisted, turned weird, but he did love her, her cute little self being around?
Last he remembered her face was when she almost jumped at him at the hotel in the capital, she looked like she would just rip off parts of him and eat his in , like you love someone so bad and you miss them so bad that you wish you could just eat them, he forgot he was tiered pulling a tough fortnight through.

Was it a heady mix of love or lust? he still questions, and still the answer remains the same its both the manifestation of a similar feeling, and he smile.
Where are we now , he asks himself and her both don’t have an answer, all the love has just disappeared it seems, she made him feel special, wanted for, lusted for, lovely freckled eyes to loose his self in, where has it gone now.

He mumbled to himself, “told ya bebe, either ways i will loose, i do” there was something prophetic about that feeling he had, having had said that out loud , could never keep his mouth shut, says what he feels and gets in trouble, well invites it rather, but this was him .

Making rainbows in his mind, dreams that were dreamt in the daylight, under the shade of the sun and the coolness of the bed with the warmth of her body next to him, would this be life, music, travel, happiness, poetry, her, me, us...
The us seems so distant now, mind would not travel further than the heart, the music was playing, the mountain air outside cool and moist, the music in his ears the smoothness of the evening was just so right, she was there looking so beautiful and gorgeous as ever, she was there.

So fragile, yet so beautiful he thought, he so wanted her badly, but should he have? No no he cant , i mean who knows, she might not be ... wait.
He was afraid of getting hurt again, of hurting her more than hurting himself, but he could not resist, there was just so much love, waiting, yearning, wanting...

Now they cant stand each other, one of them regrets all this that ever happened, the other no matter what thinks it was all that was worth it.. but they have gone far now, trust, comfort and sacrifice questioning themselves while putting them in doubt, guess she hated him now.

He is back where he began, nobody did understand him, but he knew, he maybe an asshole, hell he knew he was, he maybe was worried about the world but notheless doesn’t give a fuck, he was not a monster..

But he is lonely now, she could not connect with him at that level, there was something that was lost in translation, as both of them were thinking that sitting a million miles away, it was a sunset he was facing and she was going through the sunny afternoon of the day.

The stranger he dreamt of meeting, falling in love, being with and travelling the road of life together cannot understand him, could not, neither does he now maybe, guess it was lost in translation, another wound he would carry out on his heart the biggest one till date, like the medals of a war torn soilder ....

The old solider whose battles are still on.