Set a timer for ten minutes. Open a new post. Start the timer, and start writing. When the timer goes off, publish.
An instant comes to mind, a long drawn moment – tagged with memories; loaded with experience. It spreads like a sheet on the canvas of mind – strung at places about to tear off. It is a co-ordinate of realization, of gratitude, of pain and of helplessness. It is the instant when you walked away from me without looking back – without tilting your head even to give me an illusion that you were about to turn. Every step you took away from me created an overwhelming urge to run and stop you but I did not.
Probably what stopped you from changing your direction of steps, froze me too. At least there was something common between us before all connections snapped. That is all I remember now and while it hurts like it is never going to end, it also makes me grateful to you – for I walked a few steps away. If you’d have turned, I’d be still feeling sorry for myself – unsettled and unsure. That was the power of that instant – it changed our lives – for better probably. Yet, the question what if nags me often and fills my head with noise. Does it do that to you? You don’t have to answer. At least, this wandering in our mental orbits will be our last thread. You and Me. Holding ends of the wire of uncertainty between us and right then, the timer of our relationship goes off bringing me back to reality.