The world is beautiful and the girl I had in my life, made it magical. It wasn’t the love at first sight but the love at first remembrance because she portrayed the beauty I have always dreamt of. I was a bit nervous in the moment I first saw her, then anxious and scared at last. All these feelings struck me because it wasn’t easy for me to believe that my most beautiful dream is no more a dream. The dream and the dream-girl I wished were in my life and I had all the possibilities of world to live the dream with the dream-girl. Then with a bit of push from my subconscious and my soul I got the conversation moving and we got our schedules ruined. She was the one I bargained my schedule and would never regret that. Then the schedules weren’t her or mine, rather it was our schedule and we lived the process.
We lived it like a fairy tale and just like lot other lives on planet, this life of mine ended.
It all came down like a calamity. The one who is responsible for the induction of calamity is buried under a huge question mark but the loss has put a bold full stop on my happiness. Hence, lingers a never ending doubt of the moment when my happiness will be rejuvenated. Happiness, that I shed into tears while mourning the loss of a phase that was exuberant and exclusive in itself.
I have hit lows in my life and fathomed the rock-bottoms but this loss seems to have no compensation. This loss is unbearable. After experiencing a whole new world in a single person how can I be convinced that the world is no more. The transformation of a dream into reality was so long but destruction turned my world into minute particles of sand in mere moments and this is what I can convince myself for. I have a hope burning bright in the corners of my heart and the dreams I dream with open eyes show me the world getting back to life. My eyes show me the world ready to welcome me again in the open plateaus and greener plains covered with snow-white mountains paving way for serene rivers which end in barren deserts. The sound of notification still ring bells of her voice in my ears and my social media feed gives me illusions of her pictures, which we clicked last time we met. But in the end all it comes down to that hour of introspection which feeds me with sorrow of the loss that have occurred and that, it cannot be patched, rejuvenated or dreamt again. The hour of truth throws me the harsh reality that the fairy tale has ended, the magic has vanished and that the life is now dead.
With these confrontations, I stay awake in my bed day and night with teary eyes, false hopes and heavy heart.
DEAD & DENIED
MOHIT BHANVARIYA 