It’s been long time I bled ink but I have been doing so since a long time. There’s contradiction and depth as well, in the above statement. I have been mute for sometime but my eyes have been meeting people and my ears listening voices. I have met a lot of people but was always isolated and indulged in myself in the empty long hallows of my life. And then one day I passed by a window which was a doorway to a person who was as beautiful as a library and a masterpiece straight out of the museum. I chose to approach the window and wished to discover what lied beyond it. So, I knocked the window and was pulled inside with the mightiest force I’ve never known. I was dragged down the stairs and the next thing I saw was myself sitting amidst the gallows of pages. To my surprise, it wasn’t a collection of books, but a single book whose pages covered the walls and filled the hall, making it a library. The fragrance of pulp intoxicated me and the view hypnotized me. It was a sight to behold and a long moment to rejoice. Completely out of my senses, while my stomach was getting butterflies, the rest of me was turning into a zoo. Zoo, that never existed and will never exist. Being an addict to dark letters on light background, I started my journey to read the pages available infront of my eyes. I was going through one by one and the pages collaborated with my eyes and heart. I was living two lives at the same time. While I started to be thankful for my life that had recently got an inclination, the another one made me feel blissful. Every instance that was transformed into words started to float in my mind and with my heart, was I living. I had spent days toggling between pages in the library.
It was turning out to be one of the nicest stories I had lived in my entire life. But then in the very moment that I started to rejoice it did it start to fall apart. And one day, out of nowhere I spilt ink on the beautiful pages and the happiness that I was having, burst like a bubble. The librarian filled with anguish turned off the lights, shut the window, closed the ventilators and now I was left in the pitch-black darkness.
All the moments inscribed into words that felt so much like home were now hiding in the darkness. It appeared as if I have no happy place now. I have never had so much pain in my life. I was in agony, suffering from the darkest of times and nobody to stand beside me. I shouted for help, screaming for the light and all I could see was nothing. I begged. I pleaded. And it seemed like all my calls were restricted to myself and that my sound is limited to my ears only. It felt as if the library is shut and all that is left for me is gloom. I tried lightening candles and finding the switchboards in order to continue where I left but all in vain. After getting exhausted, I finally gave up on my efforts and pleadings. I was cherishing of what I read before it was all over. I was relinquishing the days and nights I spent, turning pages.
Just when I was about to call it over, the lights shined again. My eyes got their soul back and the words got their lives. In the dark night I witnessed the burst of sunlight. It felt as if the horizons have contracted to one single point on whole earth and that was the one I was standing upon. I felt the sunrise and sunset and all the beauty in the very moment. And after being dead for a while, I was reborn.
In the times when we try rejoicing every moment of the only life we have, I got the chance to relive it again the way I missed it in the very first go. To my surprise, I was never out of the library and that felt something to be glad about. I started my second life with improvisations and much better handling with care. It was all so good again. I could now feel the fragrance of flowers blooming and blossoming. I could feel fresh every time the sun rose and adore the sunsets. I admired the skies which were filled with candy clouds and embraced the breeze that made it’s way through the ventilators. And while I was enjoying my time in library, I skipped a variety of thoughts. I didn’t even care to give a moment to them.
I was lonely first, lively next, dead then and reborn now.
I couldn’t ask for something much now.
The most important thought that I missed was that when my first real life didn’t last long, how could I expect the second one to last longer. Of all the darkest fears I had, to my bad luck, this one (mentioned) turned into reality. The good times didn’t last long.
All the time while I was relishing my time inside the library with the pages, I discovered one harsh truth that broke my single heart into thousand pieces. I was feeling grateful for being the one who was let inside the library but the revelation aggravated my sorrow. The window to the library that I thought had a single doorway, wasn’t the truth. The library had more than one door and because I have never been through the others, I didn’t get to know the others. While I was in the darkness, people made their way into the library. During the time, I was dying to witness the lost world, the world started hosting new species in it. The library that opened up, giving me re-birth was never the same in which I died. It had new people, people who replaced me. People who were new to me but so known to the library. And at last, those people took over me and I will never know where did all my goodness lacked.
The second life given to me was not a life. It was just a moment I was offered, to shatter all the hope that was left inside me.
This was the story of me falling in love with library. This was the story of me living two lives. This was the story of people taking over me. This was the story of me believing good in world. This was the story of me expecting good from people. This was me giving it all in.
But most important of all, it was a story of me making a CHOICE. It was story of me choosing the CHAOS. Choices have consequences and seems like I had the worst. Seems like I made a choice assuming it to be finest but all that it comes down is that I chose chaos.
But will I give up on loving someone? On living life? On doing and believing good ? Expecting good ? Stop giving it all again in another good story ? Just a myth in real life.
MOHIT BHANVARIYA 