They say they love the way I use words, words they have known for so long, and I can arrange them wonderfully like pearls tied in a silk thread.
“How do I do it?”
I’m some Magician who can write their heart, the way they always wanted to say but those simple words never arranged for them as they did for me which makes me wonder- “Do I say precisely things which every beating heart on this sin land needs to say?”
“Do we all feel the same pain and immenseness of that pain in the same way words make them feel?”
I write my tragedy, in my way but they see their’s dancing in between. Making me wonder, how can they feel my pain as theirs? The pain connects us, and we know the language of pain. How does it feel to be shot with bullets of pain?
No one will be spared we know. Then also we dare to, we choose to, we consider to gift the Black Box of pain to others.
The sound is of fan and moving clock tic tik tic, eyes closed, a smile spread on lips when you sense something. Something which shouldn’t be there lying on the table near you “The Black Box of Pain” someone left for you. Every happiness around started dissolving slowly rapidly and then all at once. You swirl and move, cry and doze, and do what it demands. It is so cruel you curse and then all at once, you relive the moment you did with someone once. Now ” The Black Box of Pain” resting on the wooden table in your home. You cringe and scare quiver and fear curse it still it won’t leave you; until each bone, in you do realise that what it takes to be in pain.
It takes everything till you understand and gradually it disappears.
So, before gifting ” The Black Box of Pain” to someone who loved you once thought of you in shine and rain.
Think once more- No one suffers alone here. Everything here, is a Boomerang and will return back.
~ Sahil Lakhmani