Tuesday, July 08, 2008

Quasi Una fantasia, Op. 27, No. 2

It was late in the evening and I was walking back home lugging the overweight laptop and lost in thought about nothing in particular. I usually glance back at the clock on top of the tower as I tread on the grass beneath my foot and silently recollect the crunch of snow during winter while also feeling, quite viscerally, the acrid humidity in the air recently. The clock read nine. The sun still hesitated to dip below the dotted horizon, and started flinging harmless, tingling shots of orange and yellow into the far sky in a dying gesture that hinted at ingratitude. To whom was a mystery. Is always a mystery.

The chimes began to ascend into the heavy air. Warmth around, and void inside. I find myself asking the same dreaded question - Will it all just be a chimerical fantasy? Silence. The cadence in the evening sky continued still. Right around the eighth strike, I realized I was subconsciously counting every chime, feeling it like a heartbeat, relinquishing the last while anticipating the next. It was like a roller coaster ride where the sudden turns no longer held any surprise. I knew exactly when the next one would come. Just around the corner. There you go. Nine. Elementary Arithmetic has a strangely comforting feeling.

The moon started to peek shyly through the leaves of the nearest tree. The night had just begun.


dilip said...

Beautifully written!!

rash said...

thanks kano :)

Prash said...

you never fail to amaze me by ur relinquishing thoughts..

rash said...

heh, thanks guha...i guess.