Living with memories

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Literary Fiction  |  House: Booksie Classic
This script is arbitrary reflections of a man who is living in this world and tries to explore the meaning of our existence with his own way of searching and experience. The structures of the script is random and will be depends on the state of mind. The narratives are non-linear. It could be stories or anything else. Life is a experimental experience and the script will follows it.

Sohochari

Submitted: September 07, 2016

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Submitted: September 07, 2016

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Living with memories

Kirno Sohochari

 

Feelings: Chapter_1

You seated in front of me, pick up my hand and blaming me to cheat you. Your face was gloomy but the tender eyebrows flaming in comfort. I try to read the confusion created in your face. There is some kind of relief hidden in your tender eyes. It was a sunny midday and suddenly I felt that "the true meaning of relation is compromise and nothing else."

It was a sunny midsummer evening. I tried to taken away my wet hand from your thumbs but failed to do that. Your gloomy face now change a little bit and turning into a sadden smile. A voice was coming from a thousand distances then, the owner of the voice whisper to me "Breaking up a relation is easy, but it is not an easy matter to forget it."

The sunny midday slowly changing and turning to a radish circle. I am looking on your eyebrows, pick your thumbnail to my wet fingers and said, "Let's compromise".

Feelings: Chapter_2

It was a starry night. We two were walking beside the river. You look tender and glittering like a newborn star. Gentle wind by the riverside was flowing down to your tarsus. Stars are shining like a devil's smile. One of them was brightest and kissed you again-and-again. I was beside you and hurry to save you from the starling kisses of the devil star.

I put my hands on your shoulder and told you, "Careful my darling, a dead star is kissing you. It would be better if you cover your face from the star. It is unlike a bad night for us. A dead star is chasing you. Please cover your face before you captured by a ghost."

It was a starry night and you are shining like a dead star. You looked strangle to hear the words. The river wind gently bows down to your tarsus and soon entering your under-garments. Your vivid face was shining for eternity, but within a few drop of silence, your face turned on radish. You started snubbing to me, "Don't talk nonsense. Enjoy the moonlight. There is no ghost here rather the shiny stars. You always confuse everything. Stop your mouth and enjoy the beauty of the night. I want to keep this night memorable, so don't raise silly word again."

It was a shiny moonlight and stars are shimmering like a devil's worshiper. The brightest one of them disappeared many years ago and comes along to the riverside by traveling a million light years. It was unlike a bad nightmare that you are walking with a ghost and dancing with him. Your beauty in moonlight was dazzling and radish lips perished by the dazzling kisses of the phantom. I felt grudge again and burst with a million of tears by holding you on my chest. My heart was throbbing and hears a roaring voice from the deep inside. I bitterly kissing you and bite off your lips like a Guerilla.

It was a starry night in riverside and a Guerilla bites your lips again-and-again. He deeply drowned to your radish lips. Your under garments was dry and shiny. The silly ghost was hanging on your corset. A strange feeling was coming from the riverside which tormenting the breathless heart. A deported soul burst with tears and put it head on your corset.

It was an awkward situation in the starry moonlight. An unrehearsed act happened to you. A madman dipped to your corset like a starry ghost. Your voice then flooded over the lunatic, "Every woman wants to be trusted. Nobody can purchase or sale it to the other. You never trust on me, however, I will wait for the day when you sense the meaning!"

It was a starry night and your voice was magical. A strange and dark wind rises from the river. The starry star is soon going to dark but the brightest star still shining like a devil on the shaded sky. My heart burst with millions of tears and said to you,""Forgive me dear, it is true that I never trust you. I feel content if I can, but it is not my fault. We lost it when we were born in heaven. How can I forget the moment of "Exile from heaven"! My dear, we are the ancestor of the first sin happened in God's asylum and from this day we lost our faith on Him." 

Feelings: Chapter_3

My studious friend said once that our body is never be the same at all and we are not become the same man as we think. The body is changing in times. Our body cell dies and reborn. We die many times and born again like a Phoenix, but we are not eternal like the prehistoric Greek bird. The game of cell division is not eternal. Its capacity reduces by time. Our lifeline depends on it and we depend on our memory.

My friend then quotes Richard Dawkins and smile, "Do you know we are nothing but a bundle of memories. Dawkins said in his voice that we copying memories of memories of memories in our brain cell and writing the memoir of our existence."

I was feeling shaky against his confident smile and said, "If our biology depends on cell division, why not the memories die with it forever! It would be better if we forget that once upon a time we were born and now back again to the existence. Our flesh is new but our memories are oldies like a Phoenix. My friend, growing with old memories is painful. You should remove the oldies. I think, burning like a white sheet of paper in every time of cell division is more comfortable that that. It removes the past and we eternally living our life like a newborn babies."

My friend gets annoyed to me of hearing the foolish words. He exits from the room with great anger. Seeing his extermination, I enchanted with thrill and think that "A piece of Blank Slate just exit from my room now!"

Feelings: Chapter_4

You are essentially lonely in this hostile world. You living with your family and lot of other staff but end of the day you are sadistically lonesome.

You have friends and lovers my friend. They love you and you love too them. You have lot of works to do and keep your duties sincerely. You are a sincere citizen of your country. You loved to eat Banana pie and keep busy your tummy with testy foods. You like to kiss your fiancé and be like to refining her with your choice. You are a corporate man with flossy dresses. You never forget to brush your teeth and your machinery never betraying you in toilet. You are a strong man with a Viagra free dickhead, but the end of the day your dickhead feel him bastard and you feel yourself very ordinary for the world.

I know you are not an ordinary man. You have lot of fan and followers. You know the magic of tickling and doing it very professionally. You are an intellectual. You like to play with words and very artful on that. You are competent and love to be competent like Mr. Machiavelli. You are prudent and charming, but all of these yet, you Mr. Machiavelli suddenly feel that a lonesome lunatic slowly pushing you to the edge of silence. Your tireless efforts to be an essential person stumble on the stairs of loneliness.

My dear friend, I know you are a skill debater. You have an expertise on "Socratic Method" and I loved it. You know how to deal with precocious babies when they ask you, "Why I am here Papa? Who is the master of our life? Is it you and Mummy or anybody else? My school friend said, life is an accident and we are accidentally coming to the world. We are sinner and bearing the first sin happened in heaven. Is it true Papa?"

My friend, I certainly know that you never hesitate to deal with the precocious questions, but when you are performing like a juggler in front of your audience, a sudden moment was passing over you and you realized that you are a lonely guy! Your excavated words (I know you choose them very carefully) are now meaningless to the deep silence.

My dear friend, we are dealmaker, living and breathing on words. They are essential for our appetite. We are not dumb and not able to permitting a speechless world. However, this is not everything my friend. We ought to remember that a gray line is always exists in our exchange and communication. I like to call it "Circe Tune". She is magical with her lonesome witchery. Language is like that. It should not be determinate by some broken words.

We lost the "Circe Tune" when we fixed it by meaning and definition. A lonesome ghost then appears in the scene and capturing our soul. My friend, you need to remember this, words makes life meaningful, but life is more than the words, where curiosity driven our departed soul.

Feelings: Chapter_5

My seven years kid is very curious in nature. Lot of inquisitive question rotating his little head. He is not bookish but loved stories. The kid likes his Granny. She is the retailer of the stories my little kid prefer best. His mummy also tells him stories but it is an occasional event in his life. As oppose to I am not a good storyteller and my kid rarely requesting me to tell him a story.

I noticed that the kid always prefers to ask question instead of listening any stories to me. When he opened his Pandora's Box it will worried me. Nobody knows what will come out from there. Even when I tried to answering his questions, the little devil's eyes are flashing with great curiosities. It is a signal and it tells me that next will coming soon. Satisfying the little kid is not an easy matter. Most of his questions are obscure in nature. They reflect a non-linear world and it is very difficult for an adult person to face it.

However, our last conversation was serious. We two were gossiping and playing with words from his science book. Suddenly his mind stuck on universe and he began to questioning me. The kid has some ideas about universe. He collects these from cartoon and comic books. Once I briefly discussed the matter to him. He is an innocent little boy. Dealing with universe like thing is big and extraordinary for him. My narration concealed the complexities from him. I tried to draw a simple outline of our solar system and lightly touching the grand narratives of universe.

Every kid is a quick learner. Their sensory perception and brain cells are not jammed with lot of adult stuffs. They have enough empty space to memorize the detail of any narratives. My little kid was not exceptional. He quickly stored the outline in his memory. I was amused to see that the Tomboy swallowing every detail in his tiny brain cell and adopting it with the new once. He explained to me the basic laws of universe and mentioned the function of hidden forces clearly. I was satisfied to see his progress. The little kid then appeared a new look. His eyes were sparkling with next. He asked me, "Papa, if everything in the universe circulating in a motion then who created this motion?"

It was a starry night. The sky was shiny and moonlight melting in my window. The kid's mother was standing beside the window. Moonlight is dripping down to her face. It was an amazing night. Kid's mother was smiling. She turned back to her baby and said, "He is God my son. God created everything." The kid promptly raised next, "Mama, if God is the creator then why I cannot see him?" His mother replied, "God is virtual and shapeless my boy. How can you see Him! We feel His presence in our heart and that's it."

The star-spangled night was shining more to hear this. The little kid's eyes were wincing and he winces like an intelligent mice. The kid raised another question, "Mama, once I read a story that everything is coming from a tiny egg. Papa told me it was Big Bang. All stuffs are coming from the bang. Papa also told me there was nothing before the bang. If Papa is right then how the God be there before Big Bang!"

The moonstruck night was shining like a fanatic. I felt myself stupid. The Kid's mother bit angered to me, "You makes him confused. Why doing this thing every time? He is not like you, just a little kid only. He needs to know about the Master Planner. Why you creating doubt in his mind? This is not fair for a child. You are spoiling him by this."

The kid's mother harshly reproaches the boy for going to the bed, "Come on boy. Papa told you a nonsense story. You know very well that he is not a good storyteller. When you are getting old then searching the answer by your own. Now go to the bed. I will tell you a story of Shaddad the king. He made a heaven in the earth and refused God's supremacy in the world. God then sent prophet Hud and punished him for his arrogance."

The Kid's mother went to the bed with her kid. I moved to the window and firing a cigarette. My heart was tormenting to think about the kid. The boy raised indispensable question again. Who can say, thousands of kids are not deliver the same question to their parents at this moment! Millions of people raised this question in a million of times and yet not solved. Probably it will be an unsolved question for next million years. If we detached ourselves from the believer of God at future then a void space will created in the starry sky. Then who will be the filler of this empty surface? The star-spangled night was dripping on my face. I rub my fingers over the face and looking to the sky again. It was shinning like an angel but the angel was answer-less to me.

Feelings: Chapter_6

It was a rainy day of late summer. Peoples were dejected to see the wet and dumpy sky. She was pregnant with vaporized stem but not to be fall down in ground. I am enjoying my holiday on this day. Usually I wake up early to prepare me for official burden, but I want to prefer a long sleep in holiday. That day was not exceptional. My pillows sticking me on the bed, but when I wake up some strange things were happening in the surface. I saw a Magpie is sitting in front of my window. The little bird cheering itself by moving its tail ups and down and chattering like a talkative intellectual. Magpie is a very intelligent and skittish bird. This little devil clearly recognizes itself in front of a mirror. It is indeed a great power. Self-recognition is not an easy matter but the little bird has a gifted capacity of recognize itself as a Magpie.

I have passing long days in this planet and yet not define me very well. When I stand in front of a mirror, it confuses me. I see a faked Guy in the glassy object. His fuzzy eyes are filling with chaotic confusion. Mirror reflects an enigmatic person who is bored to think about himself. "Why I am staying in this freaky world?" is a breathtaking question and this Guy is getting tired to do this.

The Guy slowly moved on to the edge of danger and not conscious at all about his destination. His eyes lost their reflections and pinky lips turning on blackish due to the over smoking. His pot belly growing bigger but in dine he feels no test in his tongue. The other essential organs of his body turning down to the size in context of his pot belly. His sexuality attracts the opposite gender in past and he felt proud of it. Burden of life stealth his capacity. This is certainly a disaster. It makes the Guy ridicule and confuse indeed.

This is not enough. Mirror is the most notorious invention of human civilization. The great ancient mind (probably it would be the Mesopotamian who invented copper crafted mirror and then the Egyptian. The Germans were the manufacturer of modern plane mirror in 200 years before.) invented this disturbing stuff. It is lovely when you are young and youthful. The glassy object reflects your beauty then. I felt hurry to mirroring my face in young age. The pubic hair and wet dream provoked me to stands in front of it. I was obsessed about that and felt hurry like a truthful servant.

Standing in front of mirror was a very pleasant experience then. The naughty mirror was truthful to me. I was happy to see a gifted face on it. I thanked to the Mesopotamian for their great invention. It was a thrilling experience when I met my first love and kissed her in front of the mirror. We were happy to mirroring our love and soon it turned deeper. Mirror was the most memorable thing in my youth. I really loved it and never felt any hesitation to shave my face in front of it.

It is true that my first separation was also happening in front of a mirror. We were in bad mode and lost our temper. The naughty mirror was busy to silently reflecting our anguish. When my love exits from the room, I slowly turned down to the mirror and covered my face with unbearable pain. I was crying then. Mirror appeared an inhaler to me on that painful moment. I embraced it by my hand and kissing the object like a lunatic. Mirror helped me back to the life again.

I got married after the sad incidence happened to me. The naughty mirror was the observer of our "Social Contract". We two were landing in a safe zone and promoting us to be a happy couple then. One fine morning my wife slaps me with her soft fingers and whispering to me, "You rascal! You always forgot to use the condom. Last night I dreamt a baby. He was kicking in my belly. The little creature was dancing and whirling. Tell me what next!"

We were then in front of mirror. I memorizing the "Social Contract" again and hug my wife with great content. I told her, "Don't worry. Your dream is true. It is coming from heaven. The almighty God is signaling you to fertile. Our relation is luxuriant with compromise and we are a very happy couple now. I am sorry to say my dear, but this is not enough for the silver line of life. We are now walking on a busy street. The street is flooded on crowd and vehicle. You have to careful about this.

My dear, passing the street by following a "Zebra Crossing" is critical but you have no alternative. "Zebras" are essential for your safety. I think this is the right moment of budding. The ovum and sperm are desperate to meet with each other. I think this will fulfill the empty spaces of our life. The universe is not void my dear. It is fill up with lot of unrecognized stuffs. So let us move for orgasm. It will fulfill your desire. A baby will keep us busy and we are then easily walking on the safe zone."

The naughty mirror was behind the background when I delivered the speech to my lovely wife. The glassy object was shining due to the sunlight. It was coming inside through the window. Mirror is magical indeed. It reflects our desire when we are enjoying the happiest moment of our life. The glassy object was mirroring our happiness once again when we back to the hospital with a cradle. The baby was lying on the cradle and crying a lot. It was not disturbing. We were dazzling with great pleasure to think that our "Social Contract" is now more secure and enthusiastic for the presence of a crying baby.

Security is essential for every human life. I felt secured on those days. Time is a betrayer. It wipes the memories and forcing you to face the mirror. The battle was easy in young age and complicated whenever you are getting old. That rainy day was a curse for me. The naughty Magpie reminded the truth that I am going to cold. My body cell is losing their temper to being youthful. They are reluctant to trailing me anymore. The feeling was very sad indeed.  

I was struck with sadness when I looking through the window and compare me with the outer world. I fixed my sleepy eyes to the outer surface. The surface was thriving like an energetic horse. Everything was alive and vibrating on that day. There is no sign of cold in anywhere. Little kids are tweeting like a bird. Homemakers are moving faster to the kitchen and dining hall. A good smell of cooked fish is floating around the surface. The construction workers are plastering the rooftop. They looked energetic and truthful to the life. A beggar is passing to the lane by singing a folk tune. His violin is pathologic like him. It was a rainy day indeed but the surface was not empty at all. The peddlers were busy to sell their groceries. Duty bound neighbors kept them busy to chattering. Their libelous face was looking angered for the market inflation. They are sweating for the humid cloud but their face was eternal on that day.

Everything was perpetual except me. I felt discomfort. Dizziness captured me with great discontent. Millions of neurone cell was dancing in my head. They reminded me that I am living in an abstract world. My surface seems to be real and vibrant but it will omitted by death at any moment. The peddlers I see from my window are not the same peddlers whom I met in my childhood. The Magpie is not like the same bird who was chirping once beside my window. Even my fellow neighbors are not the same I met in past. Their inborn face already vanished from the surface I living now.

My head was spinning on that moment. I took back my eyes from the outer surface and stands in front of a mirror. The glassy object was not the same that I used in my boyhood. It was looking obscure due to the scratches. The mirror was not shiny on that day. I touched it by my trembling fingers. The inert object then quickly fall down to the floor and broken by pieces. It was unexpected. I get annoyed to see the broken pieces of mirror. It is a bad symptom. It means my time is coming to be broken. I felt great discontent on the rainy day.

The sky was cloudy but the rain is delaying to fall down. My long day's friend and rival passed over just a few moments earlier. Broken pieces of glass are joking with me. The skittish Magpie suddenly flies from the window and standing in front of the broken object. The fragmented object was mirroring the bird partially. One piece mirroring its face and another piece showing the tails and wings. The Magpie was bit dizzy to see this. It was difficult for the bird to recognize its identity from the fragmented part of a mirror. His intelligence is not capable to do this. The bird flies over there immediately and disappeared from the surface.

The day was rainy but the humid weather screwed me with dizziness. I was not in good mood then and feeling guilty. It was my fault that I touched the mirror. However, I pick the fragment slices from the floor and trying to knot them with sellotape. It was very difficult. Soon I withdrawn me from this effort and remembered the words of Heraclitus. The Greek philosopher said once that everything is flows and nothing stays for lifetime. We never bathe in the same water and in the same river again. The state of water-flow is changing by the new stream of water. Nothing is eternal except motion.

The day was humid and I memorized Heraclitus's word. I remembered him with doubt and discontent. The Greek philosopher confronted me to the fact that we are identical. My fate is not different from the mirror. Death will come soon to wipes me from the surface. This feeling of "Nothing" was very disappointing for me.

I slapped my face and questioned to me, "Why everything is fragmented in this freaky world! Our life is transitory and transformative, then why we are living in here? Is it predetermined that we will live like this? If it is not, then who is the planner of this artful destruction? Who is the first mover of this motion where nothing is permanent?

I asked myself, "Hey! Why everything is temporary rather than permanent? Is it true that everything is coming from nothing? If it is true then how it could be possible that nothing creates fragmented something?"

The fragmented mirror was acting like an eavesdropper on that rainy day and not intended to answer my question. Suddenly I felt a narrow stream of blood is flowing over my face. Probably my razor betrayed me when the glass was broken for another transition!


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