A leaf swigs every droplet but burns with thirst for the last one one resting below on the shard of grass. Have you seen a falling leaf as it breaks free? When it gives itself into the hands of morning breeze that makes it pure by cleaning off all the droplets resting upon it. As the leaf touches the ground and prepares to hold the last drop into it’s embrace, a shoe tramples it and makes it filthy again. The first and last kiss from the drop makes it all worth it for the leaf. The worth diminishes though as it is raked along the dead leaves. It cherishes the ecstatic death only to realize later that it’s thrown back into the same pit, the same cycle. Even love is an illusion and so is success. The end is to come and it is ‘the end’ no matter how much glorified it is. Every cause worth fighting for will be forgotten, a thousand years from now. Every pain worth crying for will fade as the mind gets bored and looks for a new pain. Every beloved droplet, worth dying for, will lose its purity after life parts ways and lose earth would trample upon the lover. Come let me make you a drink while you sit beside me holding hands, watching all the falling leaves until there’s no dew left worth dying for. Maybe the leaves won’t take birth as there’s no more dew left to give them the pain of droplets. I want to see that void with you by my side. I want to see you watch me fall in love with that void and then being pushed off to my last. When you witness that, do remember every moment that unfolds. Start from where I leave as I started from where left the leaf. Let this cycle go on till eternity. Then you would have the answer to whether the leaf’s death was worth it or a mere pity.
‘These women have God’s curse upon them. Why do you suit yourself with such filth?’, he was asked outside the brothel.
‘If God put her in this state and he bothers to curse her but not the lustful client, then, she must be special. I look for God in her!’ he replied.
‘I have always loved you’ he told her while tearing off the papers, ‘and now being the mother of my baby you should relax.’
She bent down, smiling, to clean up the torn papers, happy about the much awaited pregnancy, illiterate to read ‘divorce’ on them.