Trust, Temptation & Trash

Temptation: Mark Twain once said “There is a charm about the forbidden that makes it unspeakably desirable”. And like my fellow beings I too am tempted to attain the forbidden. You are never tempted to do well; at least I have never felt so.

The desires attached to such forbiddens are so strong that sometimes, after you have touched upon them you feel guilty. You always feel guilty after satisfaction.

There are so many kinds of temptations which lure you away from the so called path of righteousness, the one which you feel you must follow, but are never successful. The strongest of them right now is to get into the social accounts of people who were the entire world for you once, with whom you had roamed an entire dreamland were time was an illusion (*imagine Inception, the movie playing in the background*), but all that was lost and the only thing that had remained constant was that naive persons social account passwords which the other one had shared at a moment of extreme trust.

Trust:  A trust so strong that it was an axiom, no proofs required, but which was time and again proved wrong like the various atomic theories. The trust which was breached time and again; taken advantage upon and taken for granted. A trust which was so blind that it clouded people’s judgement, but for how long. The eyes started to open, the clouds started to clear, the vision got focused, and the friends might have helped a lot. With the passage of time the trust had turned into hatred, disgust, scorn. But even with this newfound hatred and understanding of the workings of the human nature the person still was naive, innocent, unsophisticated, artless, ingenuous, inexperienced, guileless, unworldly, childlike, dewy-eyed, simple, natural, unaffected, unpretentious; gullible, credulous, easily taken in, unsuspecting, unsuspicious, easily deceivable, dupable, immature, callow, raw, as green as grass, ignorant. And the person never changed, like the passwords.

Trash:  I have always found the most shocking of revelations and news in the mailbox trash. Not mine, others mailboxes, the access to which had been given to me when the grass was green, but which remained with me even after the red rose had turned white. People always forgot that the deleted mails and chat histories went to trash for a few days, many never knew the existence of the same till being questioned about it.

The trash had a very high shock value, it created supernovae shock waves which travelled through the interstellar space between the two of us and was deeply felt on both the sides.  It has highly destructive powers similar to those generated by the Earth’s Magnetic field colliding with the Solar wind or shock waves caused by galaxies colliding with each other.

 I am not saying that I am the Earth but she sure was the Sun right now glaring in full glory, and her entire solar energy concentrated at one point. But rather than destruction the Earth was basking in the sunlight which felt sweet after the cold stares, and the well deserved period of silence. The sun it seemed was not capable of destruction.

The galaxies were light years apart from each other but the faint recollection of the once strong gravitational pull was still lingering in some deep crevasse of the mind. On one such faint recollecting moment, a thought occurred, which suggested the use of the once shared passwords to trace the movement of a very bright galaxy; once very close, but now lost into the deep space.

The thought gave rise to desires and temptations, which were acted upon and once again trusts were breached inboxes accessed, and trash was read. As expected shock waves were generated, the earth was on its way to destruction and the sun was shining brightly.

This time acting upon the temptations did not result into satisfaction, but it felt guilty enough. The Sun naive enough continued to shine from a distance, its trust broken, heart mangled beyond repair but still dewy eyed, moonstruck and innocent.

Trust, temptation and trash had again created a mess of the universe

Wallets

Its always wallets, they always think alike i never could understand why. They always gifted wallets - the most intimate ones, the ones closer to heart than the aorta. The ones who we thought will never leave, but looking back now who seem to be so far into the past that their existence seems like a hazy afternoon dream, from which you wake up gasping for breath, thirsty and drenched in sweat.

The wallets they predicted things. Their physical condition correctly represented the tides and tribunals of the harmonies we were creating together. And just before it was set to snap, the thing we thought was never going to end, the wallet would always give way. They predicted things.

Its nothing to do with the contents it  carried, it was as if these wallets were the physical representation of all the poems we wrote, the poems which went on to become life song, the songs which changed pitch too often, the longings, the questions, the drift apart, the looming dark clouds, the shadows and the ultimate darkness. They never could survive till the ultimate darkness arrived, they would always give way, the wallets.

But this last one did outlast the entire song and dance episode, as if it wanted to tell us something. The leather shined brightly, showing the poems were still been written, the condition perfect representing a resonating frequency , a frequency which can create great harmonies. But the truth was something different. The wallet after all was an inanimate object , but it did live and breath.
So was the harmony between these two persons still living and breathing, maybe a muffled breath, never to be heard; buried deep within layers of ego and societal pressures on top to give it a justified healthy look.

We never had a proper closing, the loose ends still dangle around how hard we try to hide them.