A Chapter :If you think you are in it, drop her a mail

It has been almost a decade, I have not heard from her. The profiles at social networks were replaced with a notification that user no longer exists; the mail account was terminated, on the Christmas a decade back. The reds were replaced with black in her life and dreams were avoided by sleeping pills. This is all I know about her, as I imagined from her last letter to me saying “Chapter of my life, my city of love: Over.” I knew she will never be coming back to this part of world. I am writing this mail to you all, with hope that someday you all will see it. I am Zaania, The doctor and the psychiatrist of our Tiya.
That night, of January when I had seen her for first time she was all quiet, in her eyes there was not something I would say a bride’s fear. It was a fear of losing and that fear made her speak in front of that old man. She could not take vows, rather collapsed. She was brought to that city hospital, neither self-poisoned, nor heart attack but , She was in comatic state. I was asked to measure her blood pressure, monitor her cardiac pulses and do regular check ups. She stayed same, until somebody came to see her. He came an year later, he was trying to show her something, he kept on saying his story, telling her, shown her some pictures. I was not allowed to see that. He got just one rose for her, and a thank you card. I had seen tears in the eyes of my patient; It rolled down and died on her cheeks. Her lips showed movements as if they expected something, or just wish to say ….. ( I can not read her).
She continued to be same, Until It was Christmas, and my daughter jolly wished to be santa claus, So I took her all dressed to see my patients, We had plans after that. She got gifts for everyone, and Tiya got a nescafe with a dairy milk. She forced her to eat and I monitored tiya’s heart beats. I never used to believe in miracle therapy for my patients, but she was a different case, I started getting coffee for her every morning, and one fine morning she sipped it; she started to recover, and her I became her close friend. I had once operated her mail account and unread mails from you all forced me to note down your contacts. She never spoke about anyone, she behaved as if she did not remember, I knew the truth.
A very fine day she demanded a cellphone and called few people, she did not spoke just listened, and then she was all ready to leave in a jetplane. I know she called you all, and she called him also, He came to see her off, and I had seen him into tears of a reason: reason of not being recognized. Her flite was indirect; the destination was not something everybody assumed it to be. She left us forever and all I had a letter “Chapter of my life, my city of love: Over.” It had two stories: story about a city, drives, pranks, friends and HIM and a story about a cup of coffee, a gift of chocolate and a palace of love.
Now I had seen her almost after a decade, and I know the game is over. She could not recall anything; she is just awake for a dream of YASHODHARA: a project about first women. She has created work for all, educations to girls and jobs for wives. Tomorrow she is handing it over to somebody else and this marks her end. I am just doing what I could; I am informing all the characters of her story as even I am not sure about the protagonist’s choice. If I will hear a reply from you I will tell where Our Tiya is, ? ? Drop me a mail if you think you are somewhere in her chapter of life.

WHY???????/

Why is and why not it let it be the question now
Not any direction is safe, lets tie no expectations,
Rejoice moments are tinged with sadness, emotions Camouflaged
its neither elixir nor holy water, its venom let it flow
Why is and why not it let it be the question now
How those hands soaked in the blood, could decide fate
how they could confuse paranoid of future generations
they trying to stage a farce, so i say do not listen it
Why is and why not it let it be the question now
Each desire of theres' has given a flame to many homes,
neither they Compassionate the awakened soul, nor pleased the mind.
they themselves have sown seeds,AND graced these treacherous wounds
try not to highlight them ever, these scars are mine itself,
Just let me bear them...
Why is and why not it let it be the question now

THE RING....and i could never reach the beginning or end

sitting below the lamp post, zaania was struck amid the thoughts in her mind... her mind speaks!
".......................................................................................
the ring leaves an impact on my mind, the geometric figure used for innumerable derivations , a object used by gymnasts to amaze the crowd. to a girl its a dream , a trust ,and an object enough to produce a gamut of imaginations, she prefers to keep the ring as memento on her finger to flaunt ofcourse.

why m i thinking about ring, when its all absolute zero,even temperature around tending towards it. among all zeros there is large probability of me to starve , this very thought drifted me to a class full of future budding engineers and me too part of crowd physically! . i was thinking about all delicacies which i could get if i allow myself to loosen my wallet a bit, but i decided to back to mess and swallow whatever possible.then get back to cozy castle made up of blankets and let sleep dominate me. the songs might work as a lullaby to me, or few emails could motivate me to stop moving with flow and ...........

The imagination in mind started with just a ring and it seems never ending now, as if its radius in approaching infinity and i will never be able to catch beginning or end point again.
i still feel like looking up and imagine instead of ceiling the bright blue sky and the winds drifting me on my choice as if somebody has given me wings unable to carry me in his arms. there was all silence around, and whatever i was speaking was echoing with absolute probability and no dissipation. i feel like plucking few starts and wearing them as pendant or just put a Saturn ring around my fingers... the whole scenario was appearing so much fictional but very true...

i feel like painting on the canvas of sky picking colors from rainbow pallets or just pen down my heart for the angel as if its last time i could .......

Suddenly it seemed to me as if i had reached the other end of the ring , and i could hear echoing cries , shrill voices full of pain. lamp post was thrashed to the ground, undelivered mails were scattered around the remains of post box.
i was not able to touch it... my eyes passed by a baby lying very near my arms , looking towards me with weary eyes, unable to cry even..
the colours around me were now black Grey...and red splashed all over. i tried to touch the baby , but it didn't worked i was gone... along with hundreds of them i too lost the battle of life..or i was just kicked out of the ring without any reason.hell or heaven? whats next!
it was easy for almighty to decide this for me,but how will he be deciding this for the baby ,who could just speak a word "mumma".
was it all destined for us, the we will never reach the beginning or end this way!
why few people took liberty of taking our green and blue from us....
:(
why!!!