Interlocks

13 Jul

It’s the dawn of 4th Ramadan, I just came back home from a family Iftar dinner (opening of the fast), and seized a few moments out to pen down the emptiness and vacuum that I feel is expanding within me.

I may not be in limelight on social networking sites, I may not be the party animal in a decent gathering, but within the circle I tweet, when people unwillingly state how lucky I was, I pause and nod, with a reluctant smile. Indeed I was, but that one melancholic loophole was never hidden, that pervaded me completely, evoked and amplified by the morose remembrance of childhood…..

I missed those interlocks, I missed my family……

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Sharing your heart, is one alluring thing to do. Strolling down the lanes of past over mugs of tea, laughing over amusing little habits, emerging footprints from the buried sands of past and babbling over it with people who know untold stories of yours is a matter of how lucky your life has been crafted. Achievements, success, career, job, grades. looks, they all do count, but interlocks with family is one sparkly highlight.

These wide open empty fingers of mine, when gazed upon, throws a feeling of being stuck in a stygian room. I talk to myself, but never hope for a reply, for I know, that there is no sensation of a familiar hand interlocking  my fingers, just to let me know, that they care what I share.

People, share and talk to your loved ones as much as you can, as long as they care. Keep a stock of memories to think about and smile over, for days when you might just have to talk to your self.

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