“I can’t move” X said
“Neither can I. And more importantly we are not supposed to move. We are like trees”,Y replied.
“yes trees maybe. But time passes. Children come and play. The evening falls. Our branches grow beyond our knowing. “
“Then what would be the purpose?. Or is it what isn’t the purpose?” y smiled as he asked this and then said ”Slowly the pilgrims change destinations. Searching instead for a building that supplies all the electricity in the world. Or set of sketch pens pouring infinite number of colors”
“ oh I remember sketch pens. We used to take out the ink in them and then pour in bottles with water .It was cold that morning. The crows left the terrace as I opened the door.Or maybe I saw that in a movie…I cant remember” x said
“there is water on both the sides. A single road goes in between and then vanishes into the water.the weather is stormy. The hyacinths are floating and beneath them there are the cobras” y said with affectation.
“and whats left behind? Dint you look behind?” X asked.
“No I dint. I could not. But I know more. I have known the afternoon too. Afternoons filled with the smell of incense sticks. .Tori Amos singing Carnival with the turn of the sun. Libido crawling like a spider on the surface of ancient temples”
“ but the evening is mine. Father comes from office. Maa makes tea. We study rhyme books. The night outside smells of ripening fruits. There is the TV going ZEzezzezzzzzzzzzzzzzz.Our house floats on the sea.There is no one around .No one around.Only the stars and planets and Neil Armstrong on the moon.ZEZEZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ……End of transmission.” X fell silent.
“I cant move” he said after sometime.
“The purpose is love” Y began. ” Love that happens in sleep. The purpose is ruined when you know it”
“That maybe so. But it contains the inherent danger of inbreeding” X replied.
“I am blind. I lost my eyesight long ago. But your reply reminds me that I am just myopic” Y said. “But love it is I know. The purpose is definitely love. If all else fails there is the handy pedophilia”
“Geez u are sick”
“Oh my Lolita” y laughed.
X said “the purpose is love. When you erase out the impossible whatever remains however improbable must be the truth. Sherlock Holmes”
“But here is what I hate: the distilled purpose relies too much on youth and beauty. Also this story goes through the looking glass…the lovers see themselves in the mirror in which another couple are looking at another couple in another mirror …and it goes on. Orhan Pamuk”
“One day. One road. One breath of impulse to whisper “I fell in love with you while I was asleep”…..and the journey shall begin…..”
“And so the journey began. From the ruins of a lost civilization. In search of new land……the journey began from the pain of child birth to the odor of perspiration…..the journey began from the palaces whose doors were closed to the open fields where the koel sings of peace…the journey began … from the emptiness of lonely seas into the coziness of a blanket…..” y said.
X said ” but we can’t even move”
” but we are always moving …immersed in a river of life”
“ such optimism does not last long” x said.
“and neither does love .but we can exchange dreams…..i hope …..the absence of purpose shall bring us together ….”