"Blow the candles, make a choice", I heard them cheer
I closed my eyes shut :confused , claustrophobic!
I smelt more of fear and less of hope,
"Yay baby, you gonna get it answered", they further added.
"But mm I…", the wind blew my words
I smiled, I often smile when words deceive me.
As I pushed the sheets towards my naked past
It sent shivers down my spine and pit belly
There it was coiled ready to raise it's hood
A thousand unsung tales of misery
Locked within a book called childhood.
They say it right, we can't fight past our past
I say, we are never out of it
It stays deep down raising it's hood
One sweeping chance and it hits you hard
How do I tell you , I could never make the wish
I never had the choice!
"Read between the lines", I heard our professor say. We were in midst of a Victorian text. I looked at her point blank. She had spoken about something which I had no clue about. "Ma'am, would you please elaborate? ", I tried framing this sentence in my mind but my introverted self overpowered my inquisitive soul like everytime. I hopelessly waited for an explanation. Ma'am started explaining about how beyond the surface meaning of any written text, there lay a wide plethora of meaning which wasn't explicitly stated. She talked about finding a void between the written words and our imagination, that void which shapes our interpretation. That explanation opened doors to my perception of reading a text. It wasn't that I had never considered about the possibilities of meanings that lay coated in words until then, but, what perhaps I lacked was to look for that void where I questioned the layers of meaning, where I put myself in those layers of wo...
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