Member-only story
#NoVisa — A life in India 2
A palm tree stands next to a sleek building, its shadow stretching as if poised for confrontation
A confrontation and the shadows it leaves. How one pushes another who, maybe, pushes too. Who shall win? There shall be no winners. No real ones, none in the long term.
Will any traces remain? Of the souls who have ventured into the glass and steel building, of the swaying palm tree? Years later, there are but ruins. Faint memories painstakingly have to resurface, avoiding the spilling of stagnant waters. Those pipes are filled to the brim, forging a terrifying power, drop after drop after drop.
There is no avoiding, no evading, no turning back, no returning. Yet at the time, only the frame could hide what laid beneath. What now thrusts against the concrete wall and weighs it down. Why has fear not been heard? Since ancient times, men have been shaken by the sudden bolts and flashes of lightening. They have learned to fear the skies, to expect thunder.
Some were oblivious of those signs, vociferous voices warning them from above. They did not fall to their knees, yet they did become resilient. Cutting the waves, they faced the storm head-on. Was it a choice? A vital necessity? Or was it the ancestral route they had travelled since the dawn of time, the habitual buoys they hoped to reach and pass. Somewhere, far ahead, there…
