Torn blankets covering a hundred bodies to conquer cold, footpaths providing the coziness for their souls to sleep on, traffic allowing the beautiful silence to let their eyes to dream and in that alluring setting depicting the so-called ‘equality’ in the world, there was this man, staring at a building continuously throughout the night. A non-smoker, inhaling the air in the winters of Delhi, sitting right in the face of this polluted gas chamber having been diagnosed with lung cancer, he started smiling at the irony of it all. He looked around at these ordinary lives narrating extraordinary stories, then lied down facing the wrath of the street light and started gazing into the depth of the sky.
In the dead of the night, Where do you go searching for answers? When the shadows merge, To form a beautiful yet unconventional picture, Interpreted wrongly by the light, Surrounded linearly by the dark, When the silence of the night listens, To the chirping of the stars, When the dead trees shout, At the stillness of the wind, What do you do when the night gives up? And yet your eyes look as far as the horizon for answers, With no option in sight, you close your eyes, The deafening silence hits you hard, The picturesque shadows rush to whisper, And the intruding light creates an uproar, Then you interrogate the questions, Aren’t they always supposed to linger? Till the purpose finds another distraction, Till the curious soul finds another body, With this thought, you smile, We, the mere mortals can only question, Maybe searching is the only purpose Maybe answers are never to be found, And you shut your eyes, To dream of another world, Where the silence laughs and the light hustles, Wh...
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