With Myself in Between

Like every night, tonight also I join the millions of insomniacs, each goaded by his own reasons towards a losing battle with sleep. And because I cannot sleep, I gaze at the sky; we both appear dark and desolate.

Darkness and desolation.

Often this cocktail makes us fall on our knees in supplication and whisper pleas; prayers.

Like every night, tonight also I joined the thousands uttering prayers to their gods. I pray for word to come back to me. And since I have no "gods",  I pray to Word itself this time. We had had an affair in the past. Though the word affair takes away the beauty and depth, certainly it was a beginning of a love affair. But only a beginning. Because to step further in the labyrinth called love was a daunting task for me. It demanded something which I was not ready to give, scared to give. The self.

Word stayed with me. Allowed me to to pour it on paper, exploit it as I willed, get it printed, read, earn from it.

But it sensed I had many corners of my self reserved from it. I was holding myself from it. The affair did not please it. Love thrives on love. Unsatisfied it walked away......and disappeared from my world. Did I sense this? Did I see the signs? Or I was too observed with just myself, taking it for granted.....Till I realized the absence from my life, the void in the heart, the dark, desolate heart.

"Come back," I whisper the prayer.

Earlier I used to light an earthen lamp near the door. Sometimes even burn some incense, hoping the light and fragrance will help it find the way to my home. Get drawn like moths. I even planned to offer flowers, lure it by their attractive colours and promises of romance. Even decided to put some brass bells, wondering if the sounds of the shiny metals clinking with each other would shatter its annoyance,break its silence, its hurt and make Word come back to me.

"Word come back to me."

Didn't they do this in the temples for the gods to grant their many boons? I was ready to do that for Word. But nothing happened. Like nothing happened for the past months and years. My silent screams only brought back more deafening silence.

I had lost hope, given up the rituals. Even gave up the kneeling and putting the palms together.

Now I just crouch or cuddle myself on the sofa and look at the dark desolate sky outside my window. I have given up my armours, the battle is lost anyway.

"Words, come back to me."

Silence.

"Caress me. Kiss me. Run your fingers on me, till they smoulder with desire. Let me explore your body too. Fill myself with your smell. I have shed my clothes. My Self. Make love to me."

I used to roam the dark alleys of the night. The highways and byways. Thinking, perhaps like a hooker, Word, would be in some corner, ready to come for the night if I became the highest bidder, if the gifts promised were glittering and expensive enough.

But nah! It was not looking for those.

"Come back..I have nothing to give you now, just me, a tired, bruised, battered, hopeless me.....a naked me...."

I am not sure if I said this or if my thoughts simply strayed in the world between the livings and dreams.

I heard someone say:

Be patient and rest.


Rest.
In mother’s womb, in the warmth of her full breasts. In the rocking cradle embraced with smell of milk and Johnson’s baby oil. In the creaking bed, in the sensuous rapture of a man. On the soft mattress with the velvety arm of a child around the neck. On the green field behind the hills. On the bare earth. On the rough-palm-mat. On the green bamboo bier lifted by four men. On the dried dung cake and woods at the burning ghat next to a murky river, in liberating fire. In the six feet earth in the ethereal plain, in eternal peace. SLEEP.