The Centre

Out beyond ideas of wrongdoing and rightdoing,
there is a field. I'll meet you there.
When the soul lies down in that grass,
the world is too full to talk about.
Ideas, language, even the phrase "each other" doesn't make any sense.
Mevlana jelaluddin rumi - 13th century

We have been living there for decades in a castle having bricks of vacuum, crystals of hollowness, cubically arranged on the earth less floor and lanterns of stars transfixed to a roofless sky. Lovers are never safe in this world of lust and cruelty , at times the organic desires burn them to flames or other times tense opposition strangle the emotions to death then were we safe ? Yes, because our abode was rooted to the centre of “Right and left”, in between Nowroze and Day of Judgement and in the middle of life and Death. How could we be located when the atlas of ours had no mark of existence in the map? We sipped from the motionless tranquillity, dews of stillness and from muscle less horizon a meal of tender soft solitude. You might think that overdose of solitary solitude scrunched our passions but trust me it was a joy mightier than the freedom itself. No one asked about the pennies in his pocket, his future and his religious sect to be my life long's companion nor was I punished with labels of a rebel, a cursed daughter and a non-conformist sister. I never was redolent of sandalwood so as an aftermath in future I would not be questioned about my beauty. Neither had I expected him to write eulogies on me, announce his love for me, to whistle my name on the winds or to bleed with the yearning of mine. I wanted him to be nothing in real things, just like my own stock-still existence. We were two strayed stationary souls found by 'the troops of lost'. Love drugs the sensibility, blinds the vision with its narcotic fragrance, people say that, but our love was squeezed till it reached the center of “Right and Wrong”. Where do we met then? We met in the fields margining sanity and insanity. My aura several times collided with the energies his orbit emitted. Our lifeless breath mingled whenever we distanced ourselves from fire, water, earth and air from our bodies. His gravity was a soul to mine whenever he swimmed in my dreams, closer more than my imaginations. Like the eye is a grave to million moments my stationary being was to him and this way he knitted the patches of my soul and I sewed his dismantled fears of securing a bright future for me. Lovers are two in one but we were no one in one; as identity has been out of question.
For a decade, the union of I and Him locked the jaws of swishing of brain, hissing of blood and melodious notes of heart. Suddenly a moment larger than centuries whistled at the frozen castle. A hole fissured. Cracking a needle wide surface of ecstasy and voices of sun and moon slithered inside it. The ray of dawn aflamed his statue which I preserved across ages and with a tinge of spark, he started melting like wax. Drop by drop he fell to the ground and then clayed into a mould. He started to get stiffened in bones. A cloud then beeped, drizzled a droplet to my eyes till my aura of heavenly quietude broke. I rubbed my eyes with back of my lashes’ heels and saw a pair of hazel toned eyes were already fixed on me. The Line erased, I became a fully bloomed flower of spring and He turned summer: masculine, dominant and a giant of clay. He moved forward, leaned towards me and girdled around me, our wavelengths collided, another circle formed whose equator was known to us, probably a place where we have lived.
But in seconds, the circle sweltered into a triangle because one between I and Him had been transformed into a demon…….. (To be continued…..)

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