Asif Khan Inc.

stylo

‘when you know your heart is light/electric is the love’

there was a glow in the bliss of this post coital breathlessness. an aura which hung over the space surrounding their entangled mass. the source of which wasn’t the incandescence of their physical beings, but the temper of their souls.

only one of them could see it.

*

he was cursed. stylo could see. through to the light of the souls.

the stern flame in his father’s which showed him the way of life. the tender nurturing of his mother’s.

pink puppy love flames. crimson leaping bounds of lust. sanguine fortitude of blood brotherhood.

soot stained darkened ones. chameleon-esque conniving flickers. evil ones which pulled in the light of others like a black hole.

and that one true flame, which glowed unwaveringly. which led him to itself like the guiding star.

*

the glow of the aura was never as pristine as he had imagined in his entire life before this. a slightly muddled shade of gray. not the right grade of luminance, missing that flavor of vibrancy, devoid of that saturation of light. just like an underexposed photograph in the memory which loses its contents over time.

the oracle told him that  he would find the answer to this on the highway to the gates of reason. intent on finding solace, he set out. what he didn’t know was what awaited him once he crossed the bridge of identity. hearing the booming rev of a v16 behind him, he looked at the rear view mirror. only to hear a whizz which singed his hair swept askance over his right ear. the oracle obviously hadn’t warned him enough. no wonder her soul glowered in green shadows.

the gates of reason stood up right ahead, mighty in their stature. but stylo’s v8 had started groaning by now. the v16 was inching closer with each flicker of the soul. since he was a child, stylo had heard stories that the gates of reason were forbidden territory for mortals, so much so that they were practically taboo owing to the hushed whispers in which they were spoken about. he had also learnt through one such story that as you approach them, you tend to get blinded with their white light as they flood you with the truth you set out to search for. obviously, nobody ever survived. and nobody ever knew if they actually learnt the truth.

*

bam. hit. thud. jolt. blinding. elation. nothingness.

*

as he lay there while his blood oozed out of the hole in his chest, the culprit of which was still wrecking havoc in his nicotine stained lungs, he got his answer. in that flash second, he saw his soul.

the gates of reason just gave a sardonic laugh.

‘thunder roll, sunshine, work it out/right now’