Friendship: A Freedom In Bondage

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It was pouring heavily on the skull of an afternoon street. Splashes of a freshly brewed rainwater charred the edges of the gate and the footpath where he awaits his daily ride. The office was already missing his feisty charm. Vailing through options of a possible safe route to the office, he found none. Pockets empty, mobile network fluctuating, time short and mind on a race, he was already behind his schedule of attending an important meeting. Amidst the heavy air in office, a phone rang

“Bro, I am stuck. I need you to book me a ride to the office”.

“Sure.. I got you”.

Sir, you need to excuse for a moment, I need to get him a cab, pointing at the phone.

“You can’t get up. You have a deployment scheduled in 30 minutes. You have to finish this right now. Now!”

“You will get what you want, Sir. But this won’t give me what I want. So, you’ll have to excuse me for 2 minutes.”
“What’s that?”

“A good time with a friend, Sir.”

It was not until I started sailing my own ship did I realize what’s without a friendship. And frankly, it’s nothing without this friendship. The values that grow with them are a priceless asset, one can never possibly buy. And neither one can repay such bonds. It’s amazing how life away from home feels exactly like home when living with friends whom one call as a family. There is no problem that’s dealt alone and no happiness shared without them.

Taking care of a sudden plan to the ruins

The place was filled with chattering strangers, clattering noises of cutlery and leaning sounds of cool breeze whizzing by the 9 PM terrace ambiance. It wasn’t these noises that filled the ears of the people sitting at the corner, surrounding a table of beers glasses and unfinished starter plates. They were least bothered about the footsteps occasionally passing by them.

“I can see in your eyes, you are worried. What’s troubling you?”

Staring at the precipitation rolling down outside the glass, he was catacombing across his thoughts to reply to the question.

“..It’s the frustration sometimes.”

“You know you have been my motivation since day 1. I learned the art of patience from you. I didn’t expect that I would meet somebody like you whom I am proud to call a friend. Even though I had friends in my college but they weren’t the definition until I met you. You can say me what’s wrong buddy”

These words sunk in deep in the heart. So much so that it was an unbelievable trance of warming enlightenment. His newly found friend spoke up something he never thought anybody could say him. It was less appreciation and more realization to him. He looked up and emptied his heart.

“Bro, I want to do what I always have loved to do. I am not happy with how things are going on right now.”

No specifics were required beyond these lines.

“I understand and I know what you want. Hold on with me. We will do what we have planned for us.”

“How can I ever thank you for being such a good friend.”

“You already did by being my brother.”

It’s stories of love, heartbreak, politics, war, money, and power that rules the pages of news around the world. But stories of true brotherhood always reside on the pages of memories. One said love has no boundaries and neither does a friendship has any. People say breaking things are easy than constructing them. Now, go on to break the bond between some true pals and it’ll be impossible nonetheless.

The greatest possibilities to the highest honor are laid on roads one feared couldn’t be traversed ever. — Teddy

It was a sultry and tiring evening after a tedious day. The stars were hidden behind the black veil of clouds waiting to drench the world below. There was an eerie calmness on the air which evoked the feeling of a harsh storm on the horizon. The sense of a thunderous night was palpable. Within an hour, all hell broke loose. The streets were waterlogged, winds gushing through the cracks of the windows and sounds of a heavy rainstorm masked the music playing inside.

“I want to have some spicy chicken soaked in garlic gravy and a creamy base.”

“You spoke my heart out but where the heck will we get chicken now. All the shops are closed at this wee hour and we can’t ride out to the depot.”

The urge to eat chicken was so much so that even the unprecedented weather outside couldn’t deter their thoughts.

“Well, I know a place 2 kilometers from here where I am sure we will find a live chicken. But the only constraint is we have to walk and we don’t have any rain protection.”

They stared, paused for a moment and gave the slightest of the smile to each other. It was enough to decide the fate of the dilemma. They didn’t look back and not even gave a second thought to what if they don’t get the chicken.

Enough is never enough for friends who don’t see this world filled with a dearth of being together. Minimum words are enough to convey the maximum thoughts between a true friendship. One can make a friend because they find their thoughts similar and then there come true friends, who are together because it’s the freedom they find along each other’s vicinity.

I am glad I found few of these people in this life and I am proud to call them not as just friend but a benevolent brother, including her.

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Midnight Day- Motivated by dear poet

​Few lines were shared with a beautiful poet friend +Betania​. 
MIDNIGHT DAY
Raindrops on secrets of paradise,

Whence pieces of beauty, not in words,

Could find a night, lost among sleepless dreams,

The night lived by million stars,

And lived by thy speechless soul.

The nightly moon came down, to thy lips,

To kiss, imperfection defined in thy smile.

For your legacy brought back,

To stories waiting thousand years.

In darkness of thy shadow,

Older got the night, and,

Deeper was the Moon lost in thee,

For once, a life was lived in silence,

For once, it was a day in midnight.
– Teddy ©

Collaboration with Artist #1

First collaboration with an artist, also a good friend. With- Subhankar Bala aka Aaron, the painter.

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Credits: Subhankar Bala. 21 Aug 2016

LAST WALK

Slow decibel, the silent noises,

I am terrified and it is dark.

Indifference bellows the path,

In steps that chastised our thoughts.

Here I am now, weeping peacefully,

Among the ruins of our existence.

I constantly search for the fallen pieces,

But they are gone with our last walk.

This crimson red trail, covered in your whispers,

Where I walk with the sun,

A fantasy to catch the night where you hide.

I am terrified and this heart is starving,

For I know it only wants you,

To serenade you our last walk.

  • Teddy ©

Restful Chronicle

Bow infront of the truth that                                                                                                           winches with the leaves,

The face that lives on the                                                                                                                       night street which grieves.

Our roads cross everyday over                                                                                                                 the ashen of the streetlight,

Only a benevolent smile is how                                                                                                                 we greet on the east-side.

No sober interaction and what it seems                                                                                               the secrets cross the realm every time,

The thoughts that fought once, hugs                                                                                                      now in the silence of our chime.

I wonder why not we talk and                                                                                                                    be the soul of a unison rhythm!

I wonder can I ever sing and                                                                                                                 dance below the Rosewood with’em.

Will I ever cross the dilemma and                                                                                                          see the world through her eyes?

Every night infront of sleeping Daisies, I wonder                                                                                   will I ever be part of her journey to baptize.

Someday the flowers will die and the trees                                                                                       may sleep forever withered by our hopeless canonical,

And someday I will walk past the light and                                                                                     bestow her with my Restful Chronicle.