MY SPACE

Please give me some space. I am sitting in this deserted room for ages. I don’t even know exactly for how much time I have been sitting here. Wait, am I sitting here? No, I am just standing here. There was a table here when I came here and now that is also getting eaten up by these small creatures. I can’t sit on it as it is very dusty also. But I am not feeling lonely here as there is a portrait of an old man on the front wall. He is in his 80s and staring rightly into my eyes. I am not scared of his eyes. How can I feel scared when I don’t have anything to loose. This old man has a wrinkled skin. His face is full of lines and he has a very lean body. Still his eyes are twinkling like the bright stars in the night. I am still not scared of him. I just want to sit in this room and that should not affect the peace of this gentleman. Now I saw the whole room keeping in mind the stare of the gentleman. This room is neither clean nor dirty and there is a strange smell that is going down my chest as if it belongs to me or my soul. The space I am in search of is still no where although there is nothing there in the room except the old table and the portrait. I took some dust in my hand. That didn’t give me a feeling of my hands being dirty. I like the smell it is causing and the way it sticks to my hand. I took two steps forward towards the portrait of gentleman. Carefully I tried to rub out some dust. This dust is same as the dust in the room with some different smell. Is it because the gentleman is staring at me or because the room was older than the portrait? The Gentleman is still staring at me. Now this staring is attracting me. I hope that this portrait was made by a fine artist who didn’t put his own imagination to mingle the emotion of himself and this gentleman. Now even if I remove the portrait I wouldn’t get a suitable space for me. Actually I need a space to sit calmly. The space that can embrace me in its arms. I don’t want to go out in this cold world. I don’t want to feel the same shivering. I don’t want to leave this room how so ever dirty it is. I am wondering about the space it has already provided me but I want more from it. Now the gentleman is looking at me in a different manner from this corner. It is not the same staring eyes but some sadness is there. Looks like the gentleman is still searching for someone. The person he loved more than his life but there is no one. Why his eyes are still searching for that person.? Did that person ever take care about the way he is looking or he totally ignored him? Now I am feeling towards the gentleman. I know that he has taken my space but after all this is a gentleman’s portrait. I can’t ignore him being the first one here, perhaps even before the old table arrived here. There is something common in his eyes and mine. He is searching for someone not there and my eyes are trying to make a space that is not possible in that room. Both are keen and trying to light a candle in the storm. Both are tired but still struggling to see through the dark. I am not ready to compromise and he is not ready to give up. Both are fighting the lost battle and still consider them as the gladiators. Dust has played its role and there is no tear in his eyes. Looks like he is keeping a promise to be kept. He is not ready to give me space and I will fight till the last breath. One room, one table, one portrait and me. And everyone is fighting for the space. Is this the materialistic world or this is called life. They say life is like a journey. But all of us are stuck in this closed room. No window, no door and no space. Why is this fight what for ? only for the space …or for the Table’s space …or for the dusty space ….or for his space ..or for everyone’s space …everyone is screaming ….shouting without any sound . It is like a silent prayer. But who is going to listen to a table ? or a portrait ? or me ? ..I just want my space ……GIVE ME SPACE ….MY SPACE ……..