The Rocker

There are guitars playing in the background, only intermittently though, but each chord hits me, like a wave strikes against a rock by the sea somewhere in wilderness. I close my eyes, paste my lips together inwards, swallow a spoon of saliva, gush out a puff of exhaled air and try to find my vision. The drums join in on a low bass scale, like the beatles used to start their songs more than often, I feel the beats and the intermittent strings of guitars producing the most beautiful disturbances. I try to pull my eyes wide open for I feel they are shrinking. At the back of my mind, I remember my hatred for chinese eyes. I tell myself its only an illusion. I close my eyes again. No, I don't close them, it happens I don't even realize. I take a back roll. The music has not fed away, its more in the fore ground now! I take a pinch of mexican panda(google it!). It looks gorgeous peeking from inside of that beautiful invention we call "plastic". Wrapped in it and coiled with a golden string the package looks beautiful. No wonder, racism came into foray, only because we love the charisma of white so much. I try to find the spoon. I can't see where it is! And out of nowhere I see it there, thrown on the table by the side of the sofa. There is a dirty table cloth on the table which was white when it began its life as a table cloth. Now, it looks pale. I wonder how things change. I wonder again. Do they really change or just appear to be changing. The drums get on a high again. I can feel the vibes inside my head. The vein on the temple twitches a bit. I get worried. I take the spoon. Its an old stained spoon. I twist it by almost a 90 degrees. It looks like a face twisted in a wry! I try to see myself in the spoon. I look twisted too. With a finesse of the experts, I transfer a pinch of the panda on to it. My eyes glitter with the expected rush! I fanatically look into my pockets. I don't find anything. I go for the pants, I get it. I take it out. Its hard, its old, its rusty but it still works. I don't try any fancy stuff with it I saw in enlish movies. I uncap it and in a jiffy I use my thumb to give it real jerk, trying to bring in rotation, overcoming friction. Old stuff has lot of internal friction. But it works, I see the flame. I smile at my Zippo! It really is a piece of its kind. The flame sustains. Panda turns liquid. I see bubbles trying hard to come to surface. I want them to. But I wait with the patience of a crane. I can feel the spoon now. Its as hot as it can get! I change hands and rub my fore finger and thumb. I feel better. I know it won't matter in sometime but still I do the rubbing. I look for something else now. I place the spoon in some place. It doesn't spill the panda at all. I look for the bag I kept in some obscure corner of the room. I do find it at the first glance I throw at the heap of stuff piled up. Piling up is not what you want when you look for things but I manage somehow. I smile at my luck. I begin to unzip. I go slow. I go as slow as one can imagine, like those ultra slow motion cameras show; just like that. I unfold the two wings of the bag. I see inside with the curiosity of a child. My eyes spark at the mere look of it. I see the sisters sitting pretty in their cradles, unmoved, unrocked, silent, still and yet vibrant. I feel it. The aura is definitely building around me now. I take the straps out and let them loose. They look old and jaded. it's an old rendezvous, like a deja vu! Not exactly a deja vu but quite similar. I hold them in my hands, one for each hand. I maintain the balance equitably. I sometimes love the choice and context of my words! I bring the sisters together. They look so impotent in isolation. I can hardly handle the glee. I fix them together and make them one. My weapon is ready. The preparation part is always better than the execution but not in this case. I hope so, hope drives the world! I go for tha panda again. Hoping it has cooled down but not enough, left with the warmth required. I need some heat in my body. I just realize I am sweating from the side of my back. A drop forms a torrent and flows down right till where I'm wearing my pants. I can feel the exact trajectory of the torrent. I imagine what form would it have made. I get reminded of my Co-ordinate geometry classes but I pull myself out of there. I think of a name for my weapon. I decide upon sister-joint! I particularly love the word "joint". I dip the tip or toe whatever it is in the small little potentially deep enough panda pool. I suck it..........up! With a slight push I jerk out a couple of droplets out of the invisible nozzle. I stroke the sister-joint's body, just hard enough to get away with the bubbles jailed inside. I give them freedom and bask in the moment of glory. I know I'm getting restless now. I cup my upper lip with the lower one and wipe the sweat in. It has a strange taste. I hold the sister-joint carefully and in the same vein I look for a vein in my hand, the left one to be precise. I tap my hand hard to bring it up. I see the blue streak. I wonder how blood carrier can look not red but I don't waste my analytical skills there so much. I am nervous. This is not my first time I know but after quite long a break. I swallow a gulp of saliva. I wet my lips again. I feel better. I go for the target, I pierce with success and pinch. Probably, it's more like a prick. Soon I would not be able to mark the difference I know. I drag the piston by a bit. I see the red slowly diffusing inside the colourlessness of the panda. The sister-joint looks indifferently. She doesn't know what is going inside her. I know. The guitars and the drums pick up. I can hear them coming closer. Looks like a total crescendo is about to arrive. I push it all inside. My eyes go red. I sniff out in ecstasy. The eyelids take control by losing theirs. The eyeballs surrender to the might of the neurons. Darkness comes with colours mixed in it. Vision fades away slowly and comes back like a flash but fades away again. I smile, I sweat, I feel hot but I love it all the way. The drums get heavy inside me. the acoustic guitars join in now. I'm still but rocking hard. I thread my fingers in my skull through my hair. I wear a fancy hair style. Wind gushes inside. The mix of hot and cold is awesome like hot chocolate syrup on top of a vanilla scoop. I see spirals, I do see them. The sisters a....r..............e. I



................< th e r si a thin g a.bou...t it..........I wanna...........fadeeeeeeeeee a w?ay.....CAN I?