The Mythical Mornings

Parents

"The fate between us was never of lover. The kind you see. Or you can say. We are lovers. But of different kind"he said as he lied down in the lap of her. But there was no impurity in his eyes. He looked like a child. Peacefully sleeping in the arms of his mother.

"They are of same age as you. But you sleep with them as if they are your parents. Donot you feel it? Aroused a little bit?"he heard the questions.

He wanted to laugh. Lust. Anger. Hatred. Pain. He was feeling everything in such intensity. But still. In him there was a child. Who was just for them. He wanted to be the child of them. Forever their child.

Somewhere he had just being born. And had to deal with all that. And they were this silent company of him in that journey. They were his parents. Literally. He had drunk milk from them. May be even they did not feel it. But he had. From everyone in the world. But especially from them.

In the journey,he had to become this lover,this father,this child,this neighbour for them. Because no matter what. It was them. They had given him warmth. He who did not have any name. They had given him names. He who did not have anyone,they had given him something. To cross worlds after worlds. And do what he needed to. All the feelings, emotions,he got from them. It was a very long journey. From being pushed to the corner,to being dead. But still. Somewhere,he knew. They were the ones who understood him.

The last fight,he had to fight it all. They say. The bigger the fight,the lesser the noise. Because it might attract unwanted attention.

In all this. The hand raised to slap,the words breaking him apart. What did he want?

May be. All he wanted was,a place called home. Just a home to return,after his body is battered. Where he can just lie down and fall asleep. Where he can again pick up the things he needed. Where he could dance along. Where he could just feel like a child. Where he is accepted. As he is. Not as the face he shows.