The stranger in the bus..man in the black suit..who I seemed to know since ages now.. The man with a diminished smile, seemed like he had a taxing day to cuss..
We shared a bond of more smiles and stares and less words spared.. But in his eyes, he had the world locked like the pandora..
To open it was calamity, and to keep it all in was fatality.. but he was brave, went on burning his soul in the fire of the heist..
I always wanted to ask him about his plied, but I was scared of the explosion, he might endure his own Big Bang..
This stranger in the bus, the man in the black suit, who I seemed to know since ages now, was inordinately restless today. And I couldn’t guess why..
Flicking his fingers, frantic and hasty.. Teary eyes, who was once my persona for strength, put me to deep thought..
Deciding to trade a word today, this harmless stranger extends a clumsy mind, oh how he is like mine.. the trouble was little to wild,.. He was lost in his story.. and I was compelled to listen, pay attention.. because this man that I seemed to know since ages now, was peculiarly blue..
They said talking helped, but we shared more smiles, words lesser spared.. The lump in his throat did most of the work..
While I got lost in his unshared troubles, i learnt something tonight..
Melting cold nights, rumbling leaves at the height. Such loneliness and abandonment and the hurt that is caused, is all a game of our own minds.. they tell us of our existence, of the blood and flesh and the running emotions.. which would never loose weight.
And the stranger in the bus, the man in the black suit, who I seemed to know since ages now..
I finally sense him now. He held my hand, asked me one simple question.
"Why do we wimp ? Why are there storms and tempests inside our tiny hearts? Why do we feel wounded by the mighty loneliness ?"
How smoothly he filled all the blanks. The blanks inside my gut. The blanks inside me head in a rut. The blank in my existence. In my excitement.
I see the man in the black suit everyday now. In the mirror, in my thoughts, in my walk and talk and mindful tirades.
The stranger in the bus, the man in the black suit, who I seemed to know since ages now, is inside me.. he replaced my loneliness. After all, consciousness is a mystery less..
And now we look out the window together, and smile more often.. the storms seem sorted now and bitchy loneliness sits beside me, not inside me..
For the stranger in the bus, the man in the black suit, who I seemed to know since ages now, has taken shelter, camped in the void that was inside time..