A smoky bar. Disheveled hair. Long loose curls. Falling off the sides of her face. Lowered eyelids. Impossible to get a hint of the expression on them. Nevermind the feeling in them. Dissolved in thought. Wild and stochastic. Her presence, as good as her absence. Merging into the varied shades of black. Of the imposing night.

A held glass. Between fingers holding hard enough. Like they were tempted by the ice on the whiskey. Like it were the only hope, for the rest of the night. To come and leave her, unharmed. By memory or fear.

Her shaky head. Gradually rising above her body. Limbs feeling loose. Like they would fall off, any moment now. Except for the cold glass, the stronghold of which could still be felt. She could move around with her legs on the couch. She had forgotten to blink. And her eyes were perennially open, in some dream wide awake. Sleepless, yet at peace.

Laughter, unbridled. Un-caged. Rippled across the room. Like the most benign of whims had come true. Like the wildest of temptations stood before her, satiated. And there was nothing else. Nothing more. Tonite was coming to an end. A happy end.

You could spot the marks of her lips, remnants of their gloss, left on the edge of the glass like a memoir. Of their first touch. A bitter aftertaste on the tongue. A confused palate, which dips further into the tumbler of insanity, tempted by a deeper loss of senses. Nascent happyness. Smoothening the journey into utopia. I-topia. 


Surya Prakash V said...

Why Even notice it?

Raj said...

Nascent happyness.

Syed Ali Hamid said...

@SPV, it's the whiskey, man, not 'she'.

Syed Ali Hamid said...

Certainly a better option

Surya Prakash V said...


If only a whiskey could cause a split in me that was not there to begin with.