It

All this while he had known it would happen.Expected it to happen. Steeled himself for it to happen. But never estimated the force with which it happened.

It came all of a sudden. A tiny spark, a miniscule hint, a single word, a silent whisper. and he knew it. The realisation hit in. Maybe it was because he had gotten himself accustomed to it, to picking up those clues, that he picked it up where noone else could. Maybe it was a sign from above.That its time. Time to let the truth out.

But the force of it.Something like a thousand tsunamis crashing onto a solitary island.it swept away everything, everything damn thing that came in its way. Leaving not even a trace. leaving him dazed and dazzled by its very brilliance, a brilliance he could do nothing about but admire, brilliant even in its destructivity.

But it couldnt sweep everthing. something remained. Like the tiny pea on the princess's bed, that did not let her sleep. Like a thorn that refused to go out. A nagging pain. a tiny whimper.

Life goes on. Its the same street, the same home, the same black sky and the same blue sea. The same voices, the same laughter, the same crude jokes, the same burning ambition, everything the same.........and yet.....

Not everythings the same. The sky that is black is deathly, the blue sea does not shine, the voice is faint inspite of being loud, the laughter like a shattering glass. The jokes, cruel in their humor. An ambition that stays only because it has to stay. A life that goes because it has to.

A tempest of thoughts these, that engulf him, as he sits on a solitary spot in the midst of the beach. A kid is playing ball by the sea-shore. He kicks the ball high in the air,the ball flies more than he imagined it could.......and lands on a thorny bush.....and kaphut goes the ball. The child is shattered. He bursts out crying. He cries aloud for a long time, and then goes silent. He walks over to the bush, and takes what is left of it in his hand. Silence. A long suffocating silence.