#28 Rusted Ink

The dust of yesterday has settled heavily on my desk and I find it difficult to settle to its ambiguity. I find it difficult to settle down and get my things in order. There is my desk to tidy up and my cupboard where my past is hidden neatly to be arranged. My clothes too are happy in their chaotic slumber. It’s eleven in my wall clock and I have to settle down, get things in order and make my room all neat and cleaned. I had grown used to this mess and I will surely miss it. But as this world tends to reach a state of chaos and destruction I am sure to be reunited with my best friend.

I start with the desk and there are quite a lot of things lying here and there. There is this bottle of ink from Chelpark that hasn’t been used for ages, accompanied by a few Hero fountain pens competing alongside the only Parker I have. There was a Waterman somewhere there but I cannot find it now. I pull up my drawer and stash them back in it when my gaze fell upon that diary. I paused for a moment and pulled it out form the drawer. It was a year old and was filled with all the scribbles and notes I had taken while experiment with my madness.

This diary was my companion for the past two years. It had seen me come with some genius thoughts as well as my occasional shrinking to a non existing being. Many sketches and notes can be found towards the middle of it but as they conclude there is a vast expanse of emptiness. Lethargy had made me to skip them and soon it became a habit and it settled down with the dust at the corner of my desk.

I picked it up, dusted it down and opened up an empty page. My hand suddenly reached for a pen from the desk and before I can do something about it, I was writing in my diary.

It’s been a while you know since I paid attention to you. I was being a jerk. Seriously I was being one and I find it influencing me in my daily life too. There was a time when we used to sit together and share the spoils of the day, where I became the presenter and you became the preserver. And you have preserved them well. Thank you for that.

Going through you, I find my smiling along to the tune of thoughts I once had and the craziness that employed it. All those sketches and doodles just made me fall back and see what I was once and what I am now. Things have suddenly started to become complex for apparently no reason. Time has been cruel to me and we have been playing a game of catch for quite a while now.

Emotions have taken a step forward in having me and I am slowly succumbing to them.  They come in various tones and hues and influence me and my thoughts and actions. Logic has taken a back seat. So has common sense. Tear ducts have been freely opened and they are in a roll. She is haunting me in the form of these emotions and I find myself at their mercy.

You know her na. I have introduced her to you a long way back and you were happy to see me in a state of excitement and happiness. You were always smiling loud and clear whenever I used to pour out her stories and our small talks and evening walks and meeting over that coffee. It is somewhere in still somewhere in there I know, but I dare not flip back through you to bring them back to life.

A heavy mist of uncertainty seems to exist over her case. I seem to be losing my grip over it. Someone else is tugging from the other side as hardly as he can and I have tried to resist it but I find it difficult. It is as if I am pitched against a mighty beast, which has won her loyalty and now is instructed to pull out the ropes of hope and love that people have cast upon her. And just to add to our misery and their entertainment, the Gods have seen to it that there was adequate rain in these days of war. It has become a puddle of mud now and my feet are slowly sinking with it and slipping away.

I really want to know whether she is enjoying this, whether she has a part to play in this, whether things will work out between us, whether courage will flow through me to take the first step and whether I will succeed in taming my emotions and getting a life back with her.

And speaking of tough times, why did you opt out to leave me lying around to rot and succumb rather than trying to help me. I have seen you as a good companion and a friend but it seems you are not of that kind. A simply offer to help would have sufficed you know. You could have just opened up and fluttered your pages to the wind once in a while you know. Just to show me that you were there and that I could count upon you for some help or speak out to you.

A war is being waged and now is the time I need my allies to be with me. When I am down in my hellhole, now is the time. And now is the time you choose to hide away. Why do things have to be this way? Where are we standing now?

Or are you part of this conspiracy too. Did you too sell your soul to her devil huh? Oh dear. Oh dear. She has started to rip me down to pieces. Oh dear. The scythe meant for me is slowly approaching. It has taken down my friends from me first, have set loose my emotions to wreck havoc and have made me weak and empty to even put up a fight.

I won’t let this happen. I will stand up to it. I will fight to the end.  And if I go down I will go down screaming out loud the war cry from my punctured lungs and bloodied mouth. My weapon is this. This rusting ink, encased in this metal sheath. The rust needs to removed and cleaned out and brought forth to wage my war. I will fight. I will surely fight.

Shaking, I close the diary with a thud and throw it away out of my room. Grief was filling over me and I couldn’t stop shaking. A war was coming ahead and I just had my words and dreams to fight with. I bang the table hard, the dust rose for a second and just their evil propaganda, they settled back to where they encroached. I look out the door to see where that diary had fallen. And I was shocked to see this.

A man covered from head to toe in a black cloth was standing beside that diary. His bare feet were pure white and so were his skin that was exposed out in places from that pitch black cloth he was draped her. His hair was all messy and long and unkept and was hiding his face partially. His face was sulky and his cheeks were all shriveled. There was a noticeable twinkle in his eyes, sharp and piercing. He suddenly bent down to take my diary, dusted it out again and said:

You seem to have some problems dear. Let’s talk over this tonight, ok. What say we meet up in Murphy’s Coffee Bar? Midnight will be the perfect time. Ok. Don’t be late now. I have other people to see too.

And he blew away the remaining dust from the diary and darkness just flew over me. I opened my eyes. It was still dark. I turned around and checked my phone for the time. It was four in the morning. I have a long day ahead of me. And I tossed back in bed, trying to get back my lost sleep and my lost dream.

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