Pictures

- 

There is something weird about pictures

At times, they are a memory and sometimes a pain.

They evoke emotions you want to forget,

Erase happy moments in a snap,

And in a moment, turn you upside down,

Like, if you’re happy it makes you sad

And vice-versa.

We click pictures of what we love, right?

Selfies too fall into the same category, if I am not wrong,

Then why people disappear from pictures?

For several months, same faces share a picture together,

And within a time period, the face changes,

Why?

You know, I too had a picture very dear and near,

And every picture, like they say, spoke millions of words.

But now when I see them, they are so shallow.

While I smile in every picture like he is the one, his smile,

His smile is that of those people, who just adjust,

These kinds are not really a part of the memory you’ve created,

But in that moment, you just feel so happy that you don’t notice.

Anyway, so when I just go through each of these pictures,

They narrate to me a story I’ve missed.

While my smile drops down from eyes to the lips,

His smile had no difference,

While I felt what he couldn’t feel at all,

He didn’t feel what I was harbouring within me.

Even the color in background transformed with time,

It began with lively colors and took to the dark side.

So, it’s like the story was a fairytale for me but a horror flick for him.

My favorite still remains the one from my birthday,

He is licking chocolate off my face and my friends are gushing over him,

And today is the time, when he has not even called once to know if I recovered from the accident I met last week.

Ah! Past, past is at times a bitch I tell you!

Oh my! Wasn’t I talking about pictures?

Memories, they tend to take you on an adrenaline trip,

Sorry!

But that’s what I am talking about,

Pictures, they do so much to you.

At a moment you are a child, and in another, a broken hearted girl.

I remember once my mom said,

Best memories are to be cherished and worst ones are to learn from,

But you know, these pictures that I’ve been talking about

I don’t know what they are,

But they make me feel that I stood where I was,

In fact, I am where I was, but he left, that too without a notice,

And it hurts. Hurts too bad.

And like it seems, even if I have clicked thousands of pictures

With thousands of dear ones,

These few snaps still remain under my pillow,

And come out every night when tears roll down my left cheek,

to meet corner of the pillow.

- Kameshwari