Let It Go.

Staring at the green valley deluded by the hill fog,

Embracing the wetness of the grass on his bottom,

With the cold morning breeze, that chilled his torso

Watching the clouds consoling the hills,

His bare legs tingled in the mist filled grass.

With eyes as red as irregular leaf veins,

A result of last night’s incomplete sleep,

Sat a soul outside his polyester tent on that hilltop,

With ears that heard nothing except the emptiness of the wind,

Thanking his bottle of rum for breaking his fast!

He waited for the sun to rise among the giant green twins,

Like a shy, innocent child that hesitated to be awake.

What a beautiful combination that was, to be alone

On that hilltop, enjoying the things that he loved to do the most

Seclusion is indeed a powerful drug.

It serves me well enough. Then all of sudden,

As a river that went wild,

Producing a flood that engulfs everything in its way,

Breaking and reforming all unnatural things,

The tear that rolled down his eyes to the edge of his sobbing lips

Broke down the heaviness that he carried,

Shredded all the responsibilities he was asked to engulf,

Gave him the emptiness of his heart, he was seeking for.

His tears cum seclusion tasted much better than his rum.

He didn’t know whom to thank,

Was it the bottle of rum that did this magic?

Or was it what they call as the almighty God?

Or was it this endlessly enchanting,

Beautifully mesmerising,

Mother Nature who taught me how small me and my problems really were!

She asked me to enjoy her while I still could

She taught me how to be part of her little play called Life!

To forget the things that makes me cry

To let go of all the weights on my shoulder for a moment

And to carry that moment henceforth in my life

To comfort myself and my heavy heart in the vast future ahead

That hasn’t yet been unfolded by the creator.

Why crying? Why being sad? Why depressed?

It was the joy of a lifetime for him,

It was exactly the Christmas gift that he wished for

This moment mattered to him more than being “successful”

In a way he thought he was successful, though

It may not be the exact definition of it in the minds of millions.

In a split second, his eyes became the projector,

His brain opened his incomplete film called life,

His mind aided by sorting out his memories

Nature became the Big Screen, playing his play.

With no audience but him, unlike large enthusiastic crowds

Who boo when they disliked, who cheer when they loved it

For big budget films,

This film mattered to one except him.

It began by spreading a wave of smile on that gloomy face,

His nude pictures that reflected the innocence of his childishness

The foolishness he did, the fun he had,

The way he made his parents obey and fulfil his wishes,

It made him feel like I wish I was that child.

Later, the film spread thunderous laugh in him

The way he made fun of other “worthless people” in his teens

At that moment in his life, it was the most memorable memory

Now he realises that little did that boy knows

That one day others will feel the same about him

After all karma is a boomerang.

The later parts of the film which when displayed

Made the protagonist to hate himself

As little did that young man knew

That the decisions he was making at that point in his play

Is going to put him where he was right now.

For a glimpse, he wished to change his past fate

As he stretched his hands towards the screen

To stop that arrogant young man

From continuing the mistakes he was so confidently committing

Mistakes such as the wrong priorities he made

Mistakes that made realise who really cared about him

The ones who made him think whom all he should’ve really cared about.

Mistakes for cancelling all the plans while he was still young

Thinking that only struggles and being a niggard bought happiness later.

Mistakes that made him realise that not everything can be bought.

The bottle of rum spilled onto his bare legs and

Woke him up and brought him back to the present.

In that mirror like rum on his legs and the wet grass

He saw the harsh reality.

The gloomy face again. Filled with remorse and hatred

Craving for some peace, only this time he knew that he was too late.

He didn’t want to raise his head to see the play

His projector was already too wet to be of any use

His library of folders has already crashed with he don’t know what

His mind was jumbled

And brought back random memories he wanted to forget.

Even nature felt it was too cruel to continue playing that film

That film that made its only audience hurt so badly

And left him to weep alone, wishing for a consoling hand on his shoulders.

The sleep deprived brain became empty of thoughts and begged for rest.

The reddish eyes screamed that there are no more tears left

The all confused mind couldn’t think of anything to make him weep

The teetotaller had finally become a drunkard.

As he lifted his head,

The final trail of tears where dried by the warmth of the sun.

It was as if a lighting that struck him,

He realised that he was a wise man now

Who realised that past is past. That the foundation has already been made

And the only thing that’s left to do is to let go.

To let go of that rusty foundation built out of a wasted lifetime

And to build a new one instead of breaking the old,

Because time is no one’s friend, like a chameleon it changes it colours

A bad friend, who sucks on us at our best and dumps us at our worst,

But the wise man on the hilltop thought

“No one can fool us unless we let them to.”

As the movie was approaching its present climax, he thought,

Yeah even being drunk can help impart some sense

And now, in the most improvised menu called his life,

He added his most favourite dish called “let it go.”

And decided to decorate his menu

With the most delicious dishes that were yet to be made.