20 July 2006


The Secret Lives of Ghosts

Oh, we conducted our debates with passion and gusto. Our mystics said the bodies we left behind were illusions. The nostalgics loved them as lost homes. The physicists told us they were artifacts of the intersection of dimensional realities, whatever that means. In the end it didn’t matter. We watched our bodies burn up or get buried. It was like seeing a badly faded movie with an absurd plot. Life—or the peculiar absence of it—went on. The hardest part was getting used to the lack of touch. We walked right through each other and never felt a thing.

there was a mediaval king who had a rendevouz with those spirits. the place of meeting was secluded, cloistered in the warm embrace of a dense forest. he went there, banged on the door and said,"is there anybody there?" the silence was deafening,and it overpowered the jungle. the nocturnal bird flapped its wings and flew away out of the turrets,the king's horse busied itself munching grasses. in the background chiaroscuro was creating a picturesque backdrop. but the guest was impatient and was terrified by the utter silence of the place and asked again "is there anybody there?" the fortress in front of him was inhabited by a community of phantoms. they could hear the king but couldn't respond his call. silence was their only laguage and they remained silent for ever,unable to bridge the insurmountable gulf prevailing between the human world & the world of the ghost. silver rays of the moon bathed the courtyard and the spirits heard the stranger say "tell them i came,and i kept my word". silence surged again as the plunging hoofs of the horse receded away........
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