The Blunt Sword

The blunt sword

It has been more than a few times that I have tried to avert the topic of sanity from me: and it so happens that the more I stray on the prospect, the more doubtful I become of myself. Undeterred about accusations of lies and false pride, I bravely announce my intellect as exceptional. Indeed, a strong relish for the quest for knowledge, has placed me amongst the common of this age. My madness, however, is what separates me from the world below. The genius of anyone must be accompanied with a certain extent of insanity. I am yet to reveal this to the public; unique though I am, I have not conquered the primal fears of discrimination and bias. As a result of this terror which holds my frame, I cannot hide my ethics for the search for purpose. It is marvellous to think of myself different from my soul and when I am involved in more intellectual quests I am caught unaware of my presence. The quest for purpose is vaguely similar. On the day when my insanity had reached its pinnacle, I met with the worst horrors I detested to face. The palpability of its presence was an agony, which cannot be described. The pain and suffering behind this infinite quest had begun.

I cannot just now remember when or where I first made the acquaintance of that truly fine-looking girl, Maria. Very unlikely of my nature, for the past year or so, I had shared what seemed like my deepest and darkest frenzied despairs of hope. My thoughts and ideas had been playfully plagiarized by a loving friend right by my side. She was excitingly sagacious and had taken much effort into understanding my situation at various points of time. I was, nevertheless, impressed by the fact of a lone soul with whom I confided and unknowingly poured my dreams and wishes and yet I wished to hide what seemed to be mine. Maria was strikingly appealing with her auburn lofty curls, lightly freckled cheeks, deep dark turquoise eyes, sharp and Cleopatra nose and small attractive lips. That was only her face. The rest I believe was perfectly engineered to satisfy scrutinizing description. But, there was this that I never sought to share my heart with Maria. No- that was never my intention. It, in a queer way, gave me pleasure to feel her presence and know that there was another awaiting soul for intelligent opinions. That, however, never meant that she was my synonym and that she resembled me. She was abnormally intellectual but of course incomparable to me. Experiences with Maria, which I dwelled upon for indefinite eons, gave me cataclysmic joy and happiness. The manners and ambiguous remembrance of the spirits layed in subtle mists, but the shape was enough to stimulate intelligent descriptions. There was nothing much I would say that could not be found with others, but interaction is a quirky behaviour and often it held no reason and was in every way very uncanny. Let me then remember one of these strange and uncanny moments which I spent with her.

It had been a well known fact that it wasn’t that I spared words lavishly. That conversely never meant that my carefully picked words were always appropriate and meant more that a single thing. Adventurous with my exploits, I looked into her eyes compassionately, with deep love and fervour- not for her mind you. “Yes?” she spoke finally. “In the slight and temporary weakness of my rambling detail, please do fancifully articulate what I believe to say in the most concise of your thoughts,” said I, half understanding what I had said. Inevitably she was perplexed. I wasn’t often that I spoke such complex sentences, which finally was incoherent and meant close to nothing. Unable to hide the playful smile, I understood that she had foiled the true meaning of my words and she burst into a rhapsody of laughter. Her rhetorical skills were commendable and often her words sounded like well rehearsed speeches. However, there was this slight hitch which I detested in her. It was often that I was the one who bothered to ask the questions and often I never got the answer. Her words were like a cryptex. The dials would spin precariously and yet the answer could never be found. She had managed to comfort me many a times and then I used to feel embarrassed; recalling how shallow I had suddenly become. Normally I would articulate the problem of me playing the first card all the time; me putting the first leg in front; me being the one to start things. It seemed that it was her always gaining the upper hand. I felt insulted. Yet the bridge of our unnamed anonymous relationship had been built to an abstract level. Our meetings had become often and this was one amongst the rest. As I began slowly pondering into her eyes she understood my confused purpose of the meeting. “What about Saint Germain today?” she asked sincerely. “L’Espanaye” I calmly replied. She nodded in agreement; and she sat in front of me. Busy with the restaurant, I had little time to enjoy the tangible beauty of Maria in front of me. She felt offended- I didn’t mind. In fact I was a little glad. She did not understand the reason behind my slight smile. It was one of those occasional moments when she failed to comprehend my gesture. The corner of my eye wandered into hers and I read her thoroughly, from head to toe. She could never keep a secret.

The restaurant was an exquisitely ambient, sparsely crowded with a cosy amount of space, lavishly furnished and sparingly lit. Tinted glass had walled the ceiling and most of the walls and the tangs of perplex colours were enchanting me into a complicated trance. It was a clichéd evening. Beautiful with the sun precariously hanging on the horizon- the well described hoo-ha. The setting sun had shed some rays onto the tinted glass, filtering it into a variety of hues which sprawled upon the floor. Above the entrance door hung a bell and every customer’s presence was immediately recognized by the incoherent tingle of the small, sonorous, golden instrument. I eyed it carefully and it reminded me of something I was not ready to describe. Pulling my thoughts back to the table, I was in no mood to answer the waiter. I had not particular interest in food neither did Maria. She mumbled something to the waiting man; and he whisked away immediately. His smile had been fake, his tone contrived and his urgency very false. I never intended to tip him.

Away outside the restaurant, there stood this girl who immediately caught my eye. Her hair precariously hung down her face. Her clear face announced much naivety and innocence. Dressed very simply, she seemed tall; the stripes on her dress clearly enhanced her height. There were spectacles on her nose, and except that she almost instantly resembled Maria. She was gorgeous. I turned my attention back to the table. Maria knew my looking towards the secret beauty outside. She shook her head for apparently no reason, but it seemed appropriate. Her cute round earrings shook playfully enticing me again into her eyes. The comparison between the girl outside and Maria was very vague. At the instant when my gaze dwelled outside, I found a sense of yearning. I had discovered this fire within me, which was indeed a reflection of what I normally saw with the one currently closer to me. (in stark proximity). I aspired to talk to the girl outside. I never understand why, but the normal fears and coyness basic to every human held me where I was. I was presumably different and yet I was unable to break away these shackles that held me. Moreover, there was Maria in front of me and that would plainly be an indication of insult, if I were to suddenly storm outside. Anyway, the girl outside was new to me, but I still enjoyed Maria’s company nevertheless. My sight had played about into the restaurant, but the corner of my eye caught her looking at me with unexplainable curiosity. It was very intriguing, as we had proximity unrivalled by anyone and yet she settled with an unknown understanding with me. I did not enjoy the gesture at all and I decided to question her; and hopefully begin a unique conversation which I had failed so many times in conducting when meeting her. I wished to start, but she didn’t disappoint me by failing to give me the opportunity. “I have been looking…” she finally spoke, hanging the sentence deliberately. I had no wish to hide anything; so blatantly without much fore thought I began to speak. “It is useless to hide things from you, Maria. And am I not well aware that you detest liars? Very naturally, I have been enjoying the damsel outdoors, but is it not ironic of how close we get to what we want and yet how far it seems.” I stopped hoping Maria would comprehend my metaphor. Again she seemed dazed and I made no attempt to veil my annoyance. “It is a metaphor do you not see, Maria?” I played with her, “There is so much in life that I wish to do, but there are many shackled that hold me. Not only I mind you, there are many, if not every being who is a dreamer, who has all freedom to wish. However, how far can one go with the lone help of a dream, a wish? What is a dream when one cannot materialize.” She nodded agreeingly, “I had planned it Maria, nothing to worry; I still acknowledge your presence, I thought you were already feeling it.” Being unashamedly with a stone faced smile, I got away with it. Maria was not as good at reading me that I was with her, I finally understood that.

“Do you remember the time, the day when you deliberately, yet playfully placed your diary in my palm and showed me your dreams? I never read anything about its distance which mocked reality. Is this now a new addition? I enjoy this one.” She said. I shuddered. My pupils grew smaller and constricted despite the absence of bright light. I felt my head grow less heavy. How could I have been exposed to such stupidity? Was this not another plain example of my great insanity? The freshest forces of my lofty ideas and my life current leaked uncontrollably at her. Just when I was to burst in a song of forced love towards Maria, she salvaged me by understanding the tangibility of my situation. “Is it that you feel vulnerable? You have all right to ‘cause there is much that I have learnt, but why? There is much to be happy about. Have you not felt the tides change, the distance between the two souls and the unrivalled understanding of your presence? How can I put this forth, I never understand. The comprehension of your actions seems considerably difficult, yet how much of solace I find in it. The process is excellently loving, is it not? You have always been the first to talk and have I understood the purpose behind that, I hope I have. I have disappointed you many times, but there has been a long span of time for which I have plainly veiled my feelings. I wish to open them; now. You are vulnerable, below me now, you have to agree… do you now comprehend your position?” she asked with the slight hint of a smile on the corner of her scarlet lips, drooling with invisible desire. For what, I still had now answer.

I was outraged, for now she knew that she had gained the upper hand. Playfully though she may have placed those last words, but were they not true. How could I ever neglect them for the lack of weight in them? She may have framed my actions differently but my thoughts spiralled to a singularity. I had been exposed. My ideas and thoughts had been revealed. I trailed and tried to recall everyone of my meeting with Maria, everything that I had ever said. There was more hidden behind the diary. The details in the diary were nowhere near substantial, and it did not petrify me. The mere mentioning of the diary triggered other thoughts, unsheathing all that I had unveiled. Excusing myself to the restroom, I let my head hysterically scamper about for a while. I regained my composure and recalled what had just happened. Again, a series of reaction got triggered and like a domino effect my hands grew clamp and subsequently I could taste the absence of oxygen to my head. My heart grew wilder and I could hear it. It was loud and I was delighted by the fact of the absence of anyone around. There was all of a sudden the sound of someone thumping on the wooden door. It was growing by the second. It was a harvest of a conglomerate of emotion. The growing brew hatred and reciprocated the nervousness in me. My apprehension had gathered and had voraciously displayed its magnitude as a tornado spins its greatest and fastest winds around its dead calm eye. And as gradually as it had all started, it halted. I had a plan. A plan, which sounded crazy but which could give me the demonic satisfaction and appeasement, which I yearned so badly. Like the “growth” of so many things I had narrated above, they had wilted and a black cloud of thought gathered in me to form the power of an idea. Yes, what a fine idea it was. How ingeniously it had developed into reality. How well I defined the difference between the dreamer and the thinker, and what seemed like for the very first time.

Very carefully I measured the number of steps back to the table. Everything had to be perfect and as I demanded my frame, adrenaline had pumped throughout and I was looking out for th faintest of hints, and the smallest of abnormalities. Amidst the cliff-hanging I had to be successful in my attempt to hide any of these varied and easily distinguishable actions. Eventually I found the opportune time to articulate my well-rehearsed dialogue. I had never said it out once, and yet it had gained my confidence and had gathered the power to comprehend my thought. I began and I never knew when I ended. It was that gracefully mastered; and how many times I had appreciated myself after that for it. I felt that I lacked an audience for applause. Without leaving much for your imagination, let me now try to remember the exact words which I had used, yet my attempts will be in vain, as I believe the only word to describe that moment is “perfection”.
“It is immensely intimidating, as I take a short moment to imagine me in your frame. And how surprising it is to comprehend that in that short moment, the same world runs parallel to your soul and yet I don’t sense any discomfort in your eyes. Do you not understand how much under pressure you had me a while before? Do you not understand that for much of the time before you held me in metaphorical talons of intimidation? Do you not understand how afraid you had me? With much thought you might have played the words but have you regarded the reaction. How disappointing it is to know that you have flawed and a threatened man can be proved to be most deadly.” I chuckled here to ease the tension; I saw building in her eyes. “The purpose behind our sustenance is survival and now it is essential to protect my existence. The existence of my thought, my action and my will. When under control, what seems passive will turn aggressive. I know that I must wait and I know what you mean. Your fervour for the love of the nitpicking detail you have gained is painfully apparent. I have opened my world to you unknowingly and as I mentioned before I cannot wait passively. There are few people, even amongst the greatest thinkers or dreamers who can remain passive under the threat of vulnerability. I am not an exception. I cannot accept this as a coincidence. By coincidences of so seemingly marvellous a character I possess that, as mere coincidences, the intellect has been very active to receive them. I cannot leave this to the doctrine of chance, I need to provide this demonic curiosity that you have so innocently piqued, the calm only one can give.” Here I could not control a laughter, which petrified me, leave alone Maria, for I understood who was the one. “And that one is you…” I smiled, before continuing, “I’m afraid I’ll have to kill you.” It was not time for her to laugh, but she did not. I liked that. Looking at the glass she held in her hand, I gave a slight nod. Understanding the depth of my words, she immediately grew nervous. I stood and walked towards the door. She stayed rooted to her dining chair digesting the situation. Very quickly, my eyes wandered into hers. I found an innocent yearning in the deep darkness of her pupils. I had wronged.

Waking from my indefinite slumber, I grew aware that my hair was not in place. A swift sleight of hand brought it back to what I like to describe as handsomely perfect. How insane I had grown, I began to ponder. The whole scenario seemed so palpable that for a tasty delicious second I rendered it real. How well I had delivered that dialogue. How gracefully I executed the magic of death. It was possible, yes. It was painfully possible. In fact it was so possible that the plastic capsule in my jacket pocket beckoned me for its execution. But why did I practise such a hideous example of humanity? What a selfish thought brewed and yet the yearning I had seen in her eyes for numerous years failed to neutralise it. The words I had spoken were reasonless. They rendered no apparent purpose. Survival is an essential part of sustenance of life, but had I seen the tang of something far superior? I believed that I had. Nothing could stand on my way now. I walked with my head held high, for once that I had conquered a possibility which brought much danger to the one I cherished. There was importance given to the wrong things, but during that spectacle, there was nothing but Maria in my eyes. Sneaking behind her, I laid a palm on her shoulder. It was warm and soft. She gently lifted her eyes to meet mine. They were for the very first time immaculately beautiful and for the very first time the lack of words failed to pose a problem.