Leaves drift. Likwise do people. You just don't know which path it would take them to.
I am drifting. My priorities in life are changing. For the better or for the worse? I start to think about my future. I start to fear that I won't be able to reach where I wanted myself to. Where do I want to reach? I still don't know.
I feel ...... . I don't know. I have changed. I can feel it. .
From its inception, life is all about perception.
I can't study, I can just dream of studying.Dreams lay its fairy wings assuringly on my shoulders while Reality peeps with its unforgiving eye. I am drifting.
Is this what I really wanted myself to be? If so, why am I so uncomfortable.
Trust your heart. Do what it tells you. But I am a cheat. Negative vibes tanscend through my brain. The prospect of having to write a test day after tomorrow is the premiere cause for this.
I just want to be away. Why are we the so-called civilised. Why can't we be...just free. I want to see all those breathtaking sights, be it the gorges in the artic or the swamps of Zaire or the trimmed green of Sweden, be it the crowd of Kolkata or the peaceful, tranquil Seoul.
Why do I have to sit here? I can't break away.
Money.. it is a need. Where there is calibre there is money. World is only for winners. Deep pessimism hits me. I can't succeed. I am not good enough. I want to settle down somewhere in Sweden. Then when I get bored of living in soltitude I will move on to Kolkata.
It is so easy to dream. Far away from reality yet in eternal bliss.
Please take me away. I start to feel responsible. Responsible of my life. This isn't maturity. If it were signs of maturity I wouldn't possibly still be here writing.
I see the point. "I decide my life". Fate is only the weapon used by cowards to escape.
So.. what will I be doing 10 years at this moment? Would possibly in deep slumber relaxing after a tiresome day's work at some Software Company in Bangalore. Is that what I want myself to be?
No, frankly I want to become a writer. But I can't possibly live out of paper [:D].
I still have to study Malayalam, do the social project-draft. Reality slowly embraces me with its darkness. I am once again to be trapped.
I wish and wish honestly, I dont want to work hard. Let all the things be easy. My eyelids are dimming. My snippets switched off for the time being.
Saturday, June 10, 2006
Thursday, May 25, 2006
It came
It came in like all others do.... with untouched innocence. It stayed there for 12 hours waiting...
I came back from school, my brother from wherever he went.... Both of us didn't see it. It still layed itself quite comfortably in the warmth of the small unfurnished room with a horizontal slit on the top.
Quite unwarned, we laughed and joked discussing our day to-day life. Little did we know what was to befall on us........
The sun, quite cleverly, sensing the danger, returned to its den. Wary stars didn't signal to us, the almost-fulfilled prophecy.
Life has its own share of twists and turns like all M. Night Shyamalan's works have. But this is....
We look ahead, though, stopping for a moment to have one last look at the path you had crossed.
A shadow fell on it. The shadow hesitated but eventually the shadow turned itself into a silvery dark structure. The structure took it up without pain.
The journey past the climbers and the grassed garden of my house will be remembered by it for a long time....for it knew that things wouldn't be same.
The stars winced......er.... so did I... when I found out the internet bill.....so did my brother...so did my mother. It stared blankly, without purpose, at us with a three zeroes and a three engraved on it.
Silence remained, occassionaly disturbed by the screams of the on-going soap-opera, as golden as it ever were.
The writing was encrypted on the epitaph without delay........
PS: The window came to be called later as 'Torrent downloads"
Downloaded 3 movies that day
I am signing off, for what probably is the last time in the blogs.
See ya folks aftr 1 yr I think..( hope my father gets a brainwash)
I came back from school, my brother from wherever he went.... Both of us didn't see it. It still layed itself quite comfortably in the warmth of the small unfurnished room with a horizontal slit on the top.
Quite unwarned, we laughed and joked discussing our day to-day life. Little did we know what was to befall on us........
The sun, quite cleverly, sensing the danger, returned to its den. Wary stars didn't signal to us, the almost-fulfilled prophecy.
Life has its own share of twists and turns like all M. Night Shyamalan's works have. But this is....
We look ahead, though, stopping for a moment to have one last look at the path you had crossed.
A shadow fell on it. The shadow hesitated but eventually the shadow turned itself into a silvery dark structure. The structure took it up without pain.
The journey past the climbers and the grassed garden of my house will be remembered by it for a long time....for it knew that things wouldn't be same.
The stars winced......er.... so did I... when I found out the internet bill.....so did my brother...so did my mother. It stared blankly, without purpose, at us with a three zeroes and a three engraved on it.
Silence remained, occassionaly disturbed by the screams of the on-going soap-opera, as golden as it ever were.
The writing was encrypted on the epitaph without delay........
"BSNL Internet Connection rests here
Died: 17 May 2006
Was dear for all of us.
Died when Govind accidentaly minimised a window"
Died: 17 May 2006
Was dear for all of us.
Died when Govind accidentaly minimised a window"
PS: The window came to be called later as 'Torrent downloads"
Downloaded 3 movies that day
I am signing off, for what probably is the last time in the blogs.
See ya folks aftr 1 yr I think..( hope my father gets a brainwash)
Tuesday, May 16, 2006
What he thought before taking up Computer Science
Lost for words
Lost in reason
Lost in many other things that defies reason
Lost in peace
Lost in translation
Lost of time
Lost of rhyme
Lost of prepositions
Lost of inspiration
Lost of translation
Lost of lines
Lost by everything
Lost in reason
Lost in many other things that defies reason
Lost in peace
Lost in translation
Lost of time
Lost of rhyme
Lost of prepositions
Lost of inspiration
Lost of translation
Lost of lines
Lost by everything
Thursday, May 11, 2006
It is all a play with the words.
In a night where crimson clouds lay lazily beneath the lively stars, I stare blankly at the half-naked moon through the gaps among the waltzing leaves. Not so far away, coconut tress glow brightly under the influence of the street lights- lending them a divinity.
With every advancing breath I take, my heart weakens. Such a serene atmosphere, only disturbed occassionaly by the urgent streaking of motorbikes in the street below, does try its best to console my heavy heart.
I am wounded..... though not deep..... I still am.My soul is the most unpredictable being that I have met in my life. Within the click of a clock it camouflages.
I don't know what lies ahead. The absurdity in the abruptness in every thought of mine is making me frustrated. It is all a play with the words. My heart races so quickly that my pen can sight it only at the corner of every turnings.
The relaxed muscles refuse to accept my command of staying in two feet. However hard I try to convince myself that the sight of the city lights would wash away my despondency that much numb becomes my legs. Eventually it succumbs to its master and hesitatingly does its job.
I feel a bit weary.. I walk across to the end of the terrace and put my hands assuringly on these cold semi-walls.There are only a few lights to be seen in the neighbourhood.
The world is under the reassuring warmth of their gentle dreams. The crimson lights beneath give life to a dead street. I feel a sense of anxiety in the air.... A sense of waiting...
A gentle breeze carressed my existence. The leaves wait in patience to turn itself into green. The tarred roads wait for it to be treaded upon again. The moon drowsily stands awake hoping for its saviour to return. Even the Great Orion waits for the clouds to embrace it. I can even hear the yawn of the nightly breeze. Time has stopped moving.... There is a soltitude that never existed before.
I am to be happy........but I am not. An year of my life is now only..... a memory. A page in the history.
Dawn will embrace me with a freshness. A new chapter is to unfold.... A sequel to a tragic one.
It is under this reassurance that I... almost keep my pen down.
AS ON MARCH 21, 2006
With every advancing breath I take, my heart weakens. Such a serene atmosphere, only disturbed occassionaly by the urgent streaking of motorbikes in the street below, does try its best to console my heavy heart.
I am wounded..... though not deep..... I still am.My soul is the most unpredictable being that I have met in my life. Within the click of a clock it camouflages.
I don't know what lies ahead. The absurdity in the abruptness in every thought of mine is making me frustrated. It is all a play with the words. My heart races so quickly that my pen can sight it only at the corner of every turnings.
The relaxed muscles refuse to accept my command of staying in two feet. However hard I try to convince myself that the sight of the city lights would wash away my despondency that much numb becomes my legs. Eventually it succumbs to its master and hesitatingly does its job.
I feel a bit weary.. I walk across to the end of the terrace and put my hands assuringly on these cold semi-walls.There are only a few lights to be seen in the neighbourhood.
The world is under the reassuring warmth of their gentle dreams. The crimson lights beneath give life to a dead street. I feel a sense of anxiety in the air.... A sense of waiting...
A gentle breeze carressed my existence. The leaves wait in patience to turn itself into green. The tarred roads wait for it to be treaded upon again. The moon drowsily stands awake hoping for its saviour to return. Even the Great Orion waits for the clouds to embrace it. I can even hear the yawn of the nightly breeze. Time has stopped moving.... There is a soltitude that never existed before.
I am to be happy........but I am not. An year of my life is now only..... a memory. A page in the history.
Dawn will embrace me with a freshness. A new chapter is to unfold.... A sequel to a tragic one.
It is under this reassurance that I... almost keep my pen down.
AS ON MARCH 21, 2006
Saturday, May 06, 2006
In a derilium
All of us reach in a place of thick undergrowth where 2 ways diverge. Hours, days, weeks, months, years we may live at that fork but eventually we would have to succumb to cruel life. Faces once seen will be seen no more. Faces you have never seen appear .............and even those eventually disappear.
Life is so unfair.
World looks upon me as a lad with a whole life in front of me. But............. even i can imagine the paths that I would probably cross. Its all the same. I can hear the first drizzle of the monsoon. Life is predictable................... How can I probably predict my life!. I have never lived before. Statistics.....it is the only weapon I possess.
You wish all your life to be different...... But when you are... you feel unique, as if you are a stranger, and that you don't belong here. You look at the others' lives and envy.
What a lovely script. Only a magician could have done this. But then..... even when I say ' a magician', my thoughts cannot cross the limits the creator had engraved.
I am trapped....... I am all alone here. If only I could live different lives and have a memory of that....
I.............I want to set forth a journey..... a quest rather. I don't want to be......same. I don't want to be Govind. A easy-going boy of 15..... I want to be away. But with separation comes its pangs........ Life is so unfair.
The door is closed.I can only imagine what lies within. Still.. given a chance I may not even opt to open them. I may not wan't that life after all.
I don't know myself. I only see a vague outline of what I am whenever I am in front of the mirror.
Wodehouse's words echo in my ears " I believe there are two ways of writing, one is like mine... a sort of musical comedy without music and.. the other is going deep down into life and not caring a damn" Life is also not different.
I am trapped. I know these are just..... thoughts. Never to be brought to truth by action. I know I will take my board exams this year and wait anxiously for my marks. Then I would complain of the portions that I would have to study in the 11th.Later, I would reach college, wooing behind the first beautiful girl I meet. And then... I may go abroad or be elsewhere in India, trying to enjoy bachelor's life but eventually accepting homesickness. What lies after that is very easy to guess......
What is the point? 60 years from now I may sit on a chair and wonder about the paths that I have come by, smiling at every joyous and sorrowful occassions that I have had to feel, ready to close my eyes for the last time. I can imagine me thinking about these days or even this moment. Mother, father all might have finished with their stints in this drama.
( Provided that I survive)
Time is exactly 5 in the evening. Pre-monsoon showers have deceased. A freshness lays in those dripping leaves. I see men checking on their terraces. Suddenly.... I feel different.
Why? What is the point?
My eyes hold an innocence that I knew not, I possessed.
Life.. thy cruelty is unforgivable...
Life is so unfair.
World looks upon me as a lad with a whole life in front of me. But............. even i can imagine the paths that I would probably cross. Its all the same. I can hear the first drizzle of the monsoon. Life is predictable................... How can I probably predict my life!. I have never lived before. Statistics.....it is the only weapon I possess.
You wish all your life to be different...... But when you are... you feel unique, as if you are a stranger, and that you don't belong here. You look at the others' lives and envy.
What a lovely script. Only a magician could have done this. But then..... even when I say ' a magician', my thoughts cannot cross the limits the creator had engraved.
I am trapped....... I am all alone here. If only I could live different lives and have a memory of that....
I.............I want to set forth a journey..... a quest rather. I don't want to be......same. I don't want to be Govind. A easy-going boy of 15..... I want to be away. But with separation comes its pangs........ Life is so unfair.
The door is closed.I can only imagine what lies within. Still.. given a chance I may not even opt to open them. I may not wan't that life after all.
I don't know myself. I only see a vague outline of what I am whenever I am in front of the mirror.
Wodehouse's words echo in my ears " I believe there are two ways of writing, one is like mine... a sort of musical comedy without music and.. the other is going deep down into life and not caring a damn" Life is also not different.
I am trapped. I know these are just..... thoughts. Never to be brought to truth by action. I know I will take my board exams this year and wait anxiously for my marks. Then I would complain of the portions that I would have to study in the 11th.Later, I would reach college, wooing behind the first beautiful girl I meet. And then... I may go abroad or be elsewhere in India, trying to enjoy bachelor's life but eventually accepting homesickness. What lies after that is very easy to guess......
What is the point? 60 years from now I may sit on a chair and wonder about the paths that I have come by, smiling at every joyous and sorrowful occassions that I have had to feel, ready to close my eyes for the last time. I can imagine me thinking about these days or even this moment. Mother, father all might have finished with their stints in this drama.
( Provided that I survive)
Time is exactly 5 in the evening. Pre-monsoon showers have deceased. A freshness lays in those dripping leaves. I see men checking on their terraces. Suddenly.... I feel different.
Why? What is the point?
My eyes hold an innocence that I knew not, I possessed.
Life.. thy cruelty is unforgivable...
Fables and Warriors
Sheesh.......these 3rd person RPG games are turning out to be quite cool. An year back I used to go crazy about first person shooters and and 'yucked' at the thought of a '3rd person'er.
Well... what happened in these 365 days was that I played (actually) 3 games. Namely- Prince Of Persia :Sands Of Time, POP: Warrior Within and Fable (finished it an hour ago).
To begin with, me and my bro used to go....... ah! it is un-describable.... with Sands Of time. It was a refreshing change from the usual guns and booms.The plot, the handsome and incredible prince with his wall-runnings and all that stuff, the sands of time which meant that 'GAME OVER' couldn't blink at my face that quickly- were all quite...new.
Then came the dark -Warrior Within with the more mature and brooding prince. (Hooo... how I still remember the Dahaka chase #7 ). The new combat techniques, unpredicatability and novel story were the additional features on comparison with Sands of Times more..... u know... usual storyline.The fact is that..... the aura of playing this died down quicker than I thought
Then I was 'fabled'. When I saw the 6 year-old hero trying to buy chocolates for his sister, I was presumably quite .... anxious. When I saw the 21 year old hero (popularly known as Chicken Chaser) trying to save people from bees and finding mushrooms to cure sick boys, I wrote it off as a waste.
Well, u guessed it right, I was wrong. Man, I can't give much of a description about its features than to tell you that its a combination of Vice City, Metal Gear Solid, Deus Ex and Prince Of Persia.
Warning: Don't be assured that the above said statement is the complete truth. Only Partly true.
Anybays I am signing off,
I've got to do a Social assignment, biology imposition (Diag. of the digestive system of a Grasshopper. You couldn't blame me for not knowing that, can ya?).
Well... what happened in these 365 days was that I played (actually) 3 games. Namely- Prince Of Persia :Sands Of Time, POP: Warrior Within and Fable (finished it an hour ago).
To begin with, me and my bro used to go....... ah! it is un-describable.... with Sands Of time. It was a refreshing change from the usual guns and booms.The plot, the handsome and incredible prince with his wall-runnings and all that stuff, the sands of time which meant that 'GAME OVER' couldn't blink at my face that quickly- were all quite...new.
Then came the dark -Warrior Within with the more mature and brooding prince. (Hooo... how I still remember the Dahaka chase #7 ). The new combat techniques, unpredicatability and novel story were the additional features on comparison with Sands of Times more..... u know... usual storyline.The fact is that..... the aura of playing this died down quicker than I thought
Then I was 'fabled'. When I saw the 6 year-old hero trying to buy chocolates for his sister, I was presumably quite .... anxious. When I saw the 21 year old hero (popularly known as Chicken Chaser) trying to save people from bees and finding mushrooms to cure sick boys, I wrote it off as a waste.
Well, u guessed it right, I was wrong. Man, I can't give much of a description about its features than to tell you that its a combination of Vice City, Metal Gear Solid, Deus Ex and Prince Of Persia.
Warning: Don't be assured that the above said statement is the complete truth. Only Partly true.
Anybays I am signing off,
I've got to do a Social assignment, biology imposition (Diag. of the digestive system of a Grasshopper. You couldn't blame me for not knowing that, can ya?).
Thursday, April 27, 2006
Me unplugged
'Tenth standard...... you see. Time to start serious studying. How much percentage did ya get last year?"
Just kidding.... nobody has till today told me anything of the above-said sort.
Still the same me. Got back to a mixed class after 2 years. 'Nah....... I don't have time for that' :D
Sun is quite bright these days. TO put it exactly I feel as if I am sitting on toppa this world with a rainbow on my shoulders.
.........Hmmm.... not exactly. There is but one slight prob that I can't figure out. There is something stuck inside my brain that I can't get it out. To put in a literature-ical manner--- A hole in my heart.
It may be becuz I miss the all famous 9b boys class - arguably the worst in Arya Central School's history. No, believe me, I am damn serious. I miss Jason Antony. For those who have met him would not quite easily forget him ( coz by 4 years time he may reach 7 feet-- a lil exaggeration-)
Unfortunately he couldn't pass some* subjects in the last yrs Annual.
I have decided to start commenting on others blogs coz I, now, have the guts.
.....I believe so.
Just kidding.... nobody has till today told me anything of the above-said sort.
Still the same me. Got back to a mixed class after 2 years. 'Nah....... I don't have time for that' :D
Sun is quite bright these days. TO put it exactly I feel as if I am sitting on toppa this world with a rainbow on my shoulders.
.........Hmmm.... not exactly. There is but one slight prob that I can't figure out. There is something stuck inside my brain that I can't get it out. To put in a literature-ical manner--- A hole in my heart.
It may be becuz I miss the all famous 9b boys class - arguably the worst in Arya Central School's history. No, believe me, I am damn serious. I miss Jason Antony. For those who have met him would not quite easily forget him ( coz by 4 years time he may reach 7 feet-- a lil exaggeration-)
Unfortunately he couldn't pass some* subjects in the last yrs Annual.
I have decided to start commenting on others blogs coz I, now, have the guts.
.....I believe so.
Tuesday, February 28, 2006
Got the guts!
Atlast, I got the guts to do this-
In my dreams I am a perfect person
A person who knows all lesson
A person fo fortune, a person of spirit
A person of strength, a person of wit
A person who knows no fear
In whose eyes doesn' shine a tear
A person of respect world over
A person whom women crave as a lover
A person whose sight makes villains waver
who hadf till then proclaimed thers's nobody braver
A person whose intelligence never fails
A person who sweeps all men's wails
A person who is king of all sports
Who from his word never aborts.
A person whose voice even makes the cuckoo proud
Wherever he goes, in his path, flowers are bestowed.
But these are only dreams
Nothing is as it seems
Its so easy for one to write a poetry on this
So far away from the world, yet in eternal bliss
In my dreams I am a perfect person
A person who knows all lesson
A person fo fortune, a person of spirit
A person of strength, a person of wit
A person who knows no fear
In whose eyes doesn' shine a tear
A person of respect world over
A person whom women crave as a lover
A person whose sight makes villains waver
who hadf till then proclaimed thers's nobody braver
A person whose intelligence never fails
A person who sweeps all men's wails
A person who is king of all sports
Who from his word never aborts.
A person whose voice even makes the cuckoo proud
Wherever he goes, in his path, flowers are bestowed.
But these are only dreams
Nothing is as it seems
Its so easy for one to write a poetry on this
So far away from the world, yet in eternal bliss
Sunday, February 12, 2006
Pendulum
I had never felt so .....confused. I mean, one second I am completely downcast. I start to lose interest in living like this, I seem to think there is nothing to look forward to, wherever I look I see only grey. On the other side, there are sometimes when I feel so hip-hop that I wonder why in the hell I was so .....pessimistic. The truth is, this fluctuation in the moods is making me.....mad.
This addiction to computer is the premier cause for this dullness.
Oh shit.... I hate to continue this.
Father had told me that this change in writing style is because of the change in me. I just don't anymore want to write those soapy, dreamy poems. He had also told a very true fact- that I am trying to imitate someone. Well, thats the truth. Whom? I don't know. It just can't go on like this.No, no some may say that there is no need to fuss over such a small matter but see............... nah.
Oneday, folks, ..... Oneday I will have the guts to publish my poem.
This addiction to computer is the premier cause for this dullness.
Oh shit.... I hate to continue this.
Father had told me that this change in writing style is because of the change in me. I just don't anymore want to write those soapy, dreamy poems. He had also told a very true fact- that I am trying to imitate someone. Well, thats the truth. Whom? I don't know. It just can't go on like this.No, no some may say that there is no need to fuss over such a small matter but see............... nah.
Oneday, folks, ..... Oneday I will have the guts to publish my poem.
Saturday, February 04, 2006
:;'",?.<>/
The sand-dusts fly around making me blind. I just can't open my eyes.I am prespiring, I am frustrated, vague outlines of figures that doesn't make any sense swirl by my half open eyes. The dusts start to settle down but the sun beats down on my oily head making it ache. I don't care. No matter what- I know what I am here for. I open my eyes fully, put on a very low stance and Kick off. I feel men brushing my side, I hurl them out of my way. The sand below me starts to slip without warning. The naked foot complains to me of the heat. The shirt i am wearing has become transclucent. Nothing is clear before my eyes but I know that I couldn't possibly make a mistake.
I hear girlish giggles all around me. I don't care whether i am making a fool of myself. I am almost there. Any minute the destiny will be decided. I shut my eyes tight with determination and jump with my arms raised wide... as wide as an eagle could ever dream of. I feel wind flowing through my shirt and caressing my chests with speed taht I had never imagined. The pain I had felt for so long ceases to exist. Something has terribly gone wrong. i should have reached where I supposed I would. My eyelids tell me of an unspoken danger. There is no more heat and I open my eyes with diffidence. Death stares before me. A mile below lies an innocent river. The gorge I witness on the either side is spellbounding. White crystal walls stand guarding shiny water below. My head is caught off balance and I twirl but my neck hasn't broken. The distance that lies between me and Death reduces like a lightning. I will never see anyone else in my life. This majestic sight tries to console me but something is stuck inside my heart.This is the end. End of the thing called me.
A chilly shiver passes through my torso.This has to be a dream cause i am still me. I open my eyes hoping to see my mother standing before me but there is only darkness to be seen. I close and open it but to no avail. Fear grips me like nothing before. I would rather choose death than this. I can't make a step forward. I know that I still have a body. My vocal chord has stoped responding. Somewhere far, wherever far is, I feel life. I don't know why. I have been seeing too much of horror films lately. I promise not to see any of those when I wake up. Well, if the creature that is going to attack me is like those in 'JasonX' and all, I am afraid I would laugh my stocks out. I try to take this as a joke and I am succeeding. i have nothing to lose. I make each step with increasing confidence. There is no echo adding an eerie aura to it.
'I have to defeat him'. Where did that come from? I feel myself taken away. Light embraces my existence. My heart goes as cold as it had never ever had. A trillion chants, taunts, shouts, songs rip my ears. I can't open my eyes again. I had seen 'Gladiator' only a week ago. Well, if I am a hero for this gigantic imaginary audience then I am not going to disappoint them. I open my eyes the way Keanu Reeves does in Matrix. The grip on the sword tightens. There is no fear in my eyes and heart. I am not taken aback by the sight of the colloseum, a marvel by men. There is no men for me to fight and I don't see any king. I don't know whether I can use English language. Confident thuds echo fom my back. I am not turnng to look at the identity of my opponent. I take the sword as high as I can with both hands in one breath and turn behind in an almost-slowmotion style.
A familiar language is heard somewhere. There is no opponent, no colloseum.
"Commander, what should we do?" 1000 birds circle the skies attacking each other.
No, no this can't be World WarII. We haven't finished the chapter yet in our school.
"Commander?"
"Yes" I say mockingly.
"Hitlers's forces are almost here"
I should be a British, then.
"Has the french arrived?"
"Sir, they are only miles away" The sounds of muffled voice come from an old walky talky set.
Hey was that invented yet. I am growing tired of this. Why doesn't anyone wake me up?
The guy keeps on yelling at me. I don't care if the history is recreated.
A change of scene again. The clicks of curiosity reach my ears. I have my eyes opened. Something is moving at regular intervals inside a rectangular block. I just don't whether I am the one who is doing it. Somebody pushes me out of the thing I am sitting on.
"No, no I will never give you the PC. Not even if I die"
A rough person beside me raises his hands. Fear grips me as it had never done before. Will I be ever able to publish this?
I hear girlish giggles all around me. I don't care whether i am making a fool of myself. I am almost there. Any minute the destiny will be decided. I shut my eyes tight with determination and jump with my arms raised wide... as wide as an eagle could ever dream of. I feel wind flowing through my shirt and caressing my chests with speed taht I had never imagined. The pain I had felt for so long ceases to exist. Something has terribly gone wrong. i should have reached where I supposed I would. My eyelids tell me of an unspoken danger. There is no more heat and I open my eyes with diffidence. Death stares before me. A mile below lies an innocent river. The gorge I witness on the either side is spellbounding. White crystal walls stand guarding shiny water below. My head is caught off balance and I twirl but my neck hasn't broken. The distance that lies between me and Death reduces like a lightning. I will never see anyone else in my life. This majestic sight tries to console me but something is stuck inside my heart.This is the end. End of the thing called me.
A chilly shiver passes through my torso.This has to be a dream cause i am still me. I open my eyes hoping to see my mother standing before me but there is only darkness to be seen. I close and open it but to no avail. Fear grips me like nothing before. I would rather choose death than this. I can't make a step forward. I know that I still have a body. My vocal chord has stoped responding. Somewhere far, wherever far is, I feel life. I don't know why. I have been seeing too much of horror films lately. I promise not to see any of those when I wake up. Well, if the creature that is going to attack me is like those in 'JasonX' and all, I am afraid I would laugh my stocks out. I try to take this as a joke and I am succeeding. i have nothing to lose. I make each step with increasing confidence. There is no echo adding an eerie aura to it.
'I have to defeat him'. Where did that come from? I feel myself taken away. Light embraces my existence. My heart goes as cold as it had never ever had. A trillion chants, taunts, shouts, songs rip my ears. I can't open my eyes again. I had seen 'Gladiator' only a week ago. Well, if I am a hero for this gigantic imaginary audience then I am not going to disappoint them. I open my eyes the way Keanu Reeves does in Matrix. The grip on the sword tightens. There is no fear in my eyes and heart. I am not taken aback by the sight of the colloseum, a marvel by men. There is no men for me to fight and I don't see any king. I don't know whether I can use English language. Confident thuds echo fom my back. I am not turnng to look at the identity of my opponent. I take the sword as high as I can with both hands in one breath and turn behind in an almost-slowmotion style.
A familiar language is heard somewhere. There is no opponent, no colloseum.
"Commander, what should we do?" 1000 birds circle the skies attacking each other.
No, no this can't be World WarII. We haven't finished the chapter yet in our school.
"Commander?"
"Yes" I say mockingly.
"Hitlers's forces are almost here"
I should be a British, then.
"Has the french arrived?"
"Sir, they are only miles away" The sounds of muffled voice come from an old walky talky set.
Hey was that invented yet. I am growing tired of this. Why doesn't anyone wake me up?
The guy keeps on yelling at me. I don't care if the history is recreated.
A change of scene again. The clicks of curiosity reach my ears. I have my eyes opened. Something is moving at regular intervals inside a rectangular block. I just don't whether I am the one who is doing it. Somebody pushes me out of the thing I am sitting on.
"No, no I will never give you the PC. Not even if I die"
A rough person beside me raises his hands. Fear grips me as it had never done before. Will I be ever able to publish this?
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