Of Blank Memories and Shooting Stars

The sky is blank today. Like a white page dipped into black ink, waiting for a sprinkle of white paint to make it alive. But, the sky is blank today. It has no stories to tell, no stars to join, no breeze to enjoy. It is as still as a motion picture that has been paused for a while. Not a leaf dares to fall, not an owl dares to hoot. Yet there is calmness somewhere in this painting of a reality.


On nights like these, he opens himself up to me. A boy of fifteen, sitting alone under the hopeless blanket of black, staring at the ground, dismantling himself, bone by bone, beat by beat. He lays before me his fears and his nightmares, his crumbled up self stretches before me and I absorb every thought, every action of his. He dismantles every part of his thought and his being just for the possibility that he might be able to make sense out of his insensibility while piecing himself back.


On nights like these, my mind mirrors the sky – blank, still, absorbing every word said to it and engulfing them so that no one else hears it.


On nights like these, I roam around on the moist grass and try to feel the blades against my bare feet. I feel nothing. Walking up to him, I sit without saying anything. I look at his young face and I immediately wish to take away his turmoils and his problems, for he is just a boy sitting before me under this empty sky, pouring out his heart in a desperate attempt to understand his life. I fervently wish for a star to shoot across the sky just so he looks up and smiles. But, the sky is blank today.


I sit there, feeling helplessness choking me, making me feel like a drowning person gasping for air. Tell me, how can I bear my son fighting with every possible force of nature to bring me back from the dead? Tell me how? All these years have gone by and he still sheds tears and blood with the same intensity that he did when he found me dead, from a car crash, on a hospital bed. What he wouldn’t give to forget everything and paint his life like the dawn is painted over the night. With me, that day, his happiness died too and everyday, I shoot stars across the sky to see the ghost of smile touch his lips.


Today I sit empty handed, for the sky is blank today.


Image Source: flickr.com


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