Sort Of Introduction

Don’t you feel that you are in a labyrinth? So many paths, Only one leads to the outside world. All the rest is a futile multitude of hope. Don’t you then crave for the presence of someone to tell you that your heart still owns a cubicle for him? Don’t you then see a butterfly dying frozen? If you take it your palm, don’t you see it coming back to life with the heat of your body? THE HEAT IN THE FROZEN WORLD!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Don’t you crave for it.. my friend.....between us only the multitude of time...........

Again a few words, if it doesn’t turn out to be tedious
if you like you can call me dirty
once , when the summer heat was sizzling, I happened to come through a bulk of letters written by someone to someone.
I stared reading them, though the words sprawled on the page. the sky-blue colour of Indian letters. I started to dip into the private world of two persons, one definitely anonymous, except by name which is of no use.
My generation has lost the passion of letter writing. Our communication is of sparse sentences: often unemotive.
I read those twenty and odd letters within an hour........
How beautiful is the human mind, which we often neglect and brand as blank........
Every one of us has a secret; a mind-blowing secret........
that some one whose letters were so; whose beautiful thoughts , the labyrinthine maze of emotions were swept away by
masks; I am sure masks.......
beneath those masks that someone interred him/herself.........
once, I would tell that someone. Perhaps then he/she would come back.......but wrinkles are already on her/his face. Time indeed is an irredeemable force.

These days i find one thing very true. It’s a philosophy of piranhas .They devour an animal within seconds. Why this haste...... for their life is so short. So sometimes I feel that I want to be very hasty...... things blur.. Flames fade death merges dreams to voidity...... only that much. What is untold is more profound....... au revoir tous...