The tussle between her colours
It was down to a nail biting finish. She cheered along with the rest when her team scored one of the last few points up for grabs. And yet, her fingers intertwined, dug into each other in a frantic, silent player - almost willing nature, or god or just about anyone to reverse the tide.
The players were back again on the field - the slow intense jostle to make it to the finish line.
She barely managed to show the right amount of disappointment when her team lost the next point and the next and then another one. Her heart was now beating to a slow thump. She knew they would lose, yet she was internally bursting into a million mental jigs.
The final whistle was out. Her fingers relaxed leaving behind those tiny red marks where her nails had dug into the flesh. Poetic justice she felt. For even though her team was the color of nature, her heart was with the color of fury.
Drinks and Wires
It had been a grueling week – no sleep and no peace. He felt wired up like a caged beast ready to maul anything in its wake. His quad was empty, with a kind of peace he hated. There was chaos outside – a party with music that he, at best , tolerated. He waited, slow counting seconds and breathing in this mix of unwanted chaos and peace.
As the old monk warmed him up, he cursed, opened the door and chose chaos.
Silhouettes and Senses
She walked into the room, her silhouette framed by the smoke and moving unnoticeable to the music. As she walked around, moving in and out of groups, conversations and laughter, she appeared involved. Yet, only the discerning could see the flutter in her eyes – searching and seeking.
Then her eyes met his. And she found peace.
No comments:
Post a Comment