Eyes

Some drops from the rooftop. Seamlessly they fall down on my hand. The goosebumps collectively accumulate them locking them in some kind of beaver's dam. I watch the drops grow, from a molecule to a bucketful of chasteness. The afternoon sun mixed with pseudo-twilight remembrance. Mumbai. It looks so beautiful in rains. Like grotesque yet beautiful orgy of wine and cheese. Like arms of solitude together creating something beautiful. Facelessness. I watched it all. Sipping very drop of my memories. I observed it with glimmer-less eyes. They have sunken deep into the craftiness of my mind.

Green. Brown. Translucence. Mischievous. Discreet. Maybe these were the few words which transformed into adjectives of forlorn trajectory of insane motions and emotions. The drops incessantly glimmered in his eyes. I could see the evolving pattern of colors those which reflected from the raindrops and refracted inside his eyes. I could see myself within those confinements. I could see myself getting trapped. I could see myself struggling. I could see myself drowning into ocean of green algae impregnated with unfathomable waters.