Participate in the 3rd Season of STORYMIRROR SCHOOLS WRITING COMPETITION - the BIGGEST Writing Competition in India for School Students & Teachers and win a 2N/3D holiday trip from Club Mahindra
Participate in the 3rd Season of STORYMIRROR SCHOOLS WRITING COMPETITION - the BIGGEST Writing Competition in India for School Students & Teachers and win a 2N/3D holiday trip from Club Mahindra

Aranya Das

Fantasy


3  

Aranya Das

Fantasy


Jouska

Jouska

2 mins 12.1K 2 mins 12.1K

Monday midnight, amidst those contemplations, where I mystified myself with perfect jouska options, I asked Aranya -

What could have been the best reply or reaction to an incident

Probably dating back to the stone age. 


Tuesday morning, I find myself singing lullabies for you and you are having your own moments of epiphany - you have finally found the way to your galaxy of happiness hidden in my astrological stars - love wrapped more in cosmicity and less incorporeality. 


Wednesday dusk, I want to go back to the smell of the metal bars of my window and look at the things happening on the busy street. My back getting inked with the shape of the window grill as I sit there for long hours leaning against it but my mind keeps on going back to the stinking air of my bedroom where a pair of lecherous eyes and pitiless fingers are forcefully tattooing harassment in different fonts all over my body - in bold and italics. I imagined pouring molten metals on his skin - underlining consent. 


Thursday afternoon is kind enough - 

I have practiced that speech on self-love, a thousand times. 

I ain't gentle with my body and mind - 

I let it burn too much with ice and fed it with corrosive thoughts. 

But I was tired of putting myself down - so I decided to act out self-love things.

Deliberately, I put on a lipstick shade somewhat matching to terracotta and wore a dress having the same shade of yellow matching the song by Coldplay. 


Friday evening came in with a lot of surprises - seemingly inexorable rain and a sound so loud that the sky deemed to split. 

I'm writing something about the gray-blue sky and my roommate had made a delicious plate of Macaroni for me. I still remember the day of our first meeting - over a dozen glasses of Mimosa in a pub next to the club I recite poetries. 


Saturday night witnessed sleeplessness and paraphrasing of bygone conversations where I have already over-reacted and over-analyzed. I'm traveling backward in a surreal world - unraveling veins of people I have depleted oxygen from - I have invaded their breathing space with my exaggerated reactions - irreversible like chemical changes. 


Sunday was the culmination of all the conjectures and guesstimates - all the pictures where I have lived life as I have always wanted. Where undo is an option. 


Oh, wait! Isn't today Thursday? 

I think I have already fictionalized past and recollected the future - both of these hypothetical in nature. 

A twisted form of Jouska - factual yet imaginary.


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