Feather

"An insult to the strong man that rests inside you,you pea brained nincompoop." I could almost hearmyself screaming somewhere deep inside my head. Thevoice came from so many places, those places wheregenerally Metallica songs, three years of officeinsults, break-ups etc are kept. "Strong?"

I was searching for a feather given to me four years(almost five now) ago by a soulmate. A soulmate he wasno less, Maybe more, but certainly not less. he hadcaught the little feather between his index and middlefinger, held it till his smile had faded into mine. Iremember inhaling his strawberry-jam-sandwich breath.The world had muted for one brief moment, till hisgrip on the feather descended, the feathertranscended, I caught those moments and the feather. Iwas searching for those lost moments in the feather.Lost so, that I wasn't successful in weighing theircredence. It was one of those times when you knowyou're missing something, and you know what it is, butyou're scared to express it to yourself. You try towash years of emotion with temporary condolence ofyour own solitude and, sad but true, falsehood. Thefalsehood of not missing what you miss everyday ofyour life. And yes, golden moments, better than one'sexperienced will arrive but are the one's gone, reallygone?

I remember him holding a Gillette Presto in hand insome the-name-doesn't-matter hotel , one night. Inframes I remember him delicately whisper "Let me doit, please, please, please, please." And he did somuch as to touch the razor to my foamed right cheek,and withdrew in the same delicate mo(ve)ment. "What ifit hurts?"

I also remember the bus journey when he asked what kind of love was I looking forward to in life. I said well you know the one who understands something someone like err you know (he won the eye contact which I was fighting so desperately against) you, I said, it had finally blurted itself out. he smiled,his answer wasn't expected as he said, someone withdark hair, brown eyes, not taller than you, his smile faded again.

I know not why I search for the feather for it was forgotten after I passed out of the college with a coveted degree and memories. I could swear on my life, he forgot it in the laughter of a new ray in his life,"a replacement" as other friends told me "you're forgotten, haha". So I pretended to forget. I never knew why I searched for my feather, until yesterday,when we bumped into each other in a bus bumping its way towards Bandra. The availability of seats allowedme to be seated after his, and I wondered if he was the same person who had hugged me when he cried andwhen he laughed. His destination was nearing; I hoped he had done well in the years blinded to me. he got up, smiled at me, eyes evidently wet, and offered a handshake which only we (we both, only two of us) knew, as if to remind me of the times that we had shared, I accepted it, as if I never forgot.