City Abandoned

It was dawn, when I arrived, but seemed as if it had been dusk since eternity. I left behind images of modern, promising India captured through two months of my odyssey. And here I was, at the end of the world, at the end of time.

It was a city abandoned by civilization, or by life, enravished by destruction altogether. A place where nature had experimented all her weapons, and abandoned for slow decay. There had been a clandestine alliance between the creator and the destroyer. The trees bent down to touch the ground, and the bushes raced up to the sky. The roads were bordered with dense vegetation, which were crusading for their lost territory,brandishing their swords in the sky, marching slowly ahead from both sides, narrowing down the space. A multitude of terrorising war cries could be heard, those of the insects. Amidst the towering vegetation, some constructions could be seen, barely though. But they were ruins, all of them. The walls crumbled from some corner, or were sustained perilously by some strange balance, in a strange equilibrium. Some odd stream of water flowed from some crevice. Someone said, water is life. And there's life, scampering for shelter, chased away by death. The walls have been painted black and gray by a huge paintbrush. It's wet at some places, in shades of dark green. A thin trunk, some twig like branches and a few leaves are waiting outside a window, at the sill, waiting cautiously for their opportunity to get inside. They indeed look like worthy occupants.

It didn't quite look like the place I was dwelling in for three years, and niether did it look like I could continue for another. Something had changed. Time had lost it's pace, it's moving very slowly, drowsily. This might explain why everything appears so lazy. The air was dense, even breathing and walking met with a fierce invisible resistance. It seemed as if I was at the bottom of a gelatinous ocean. It was nature's diktat: Stay where you are. And so did every single leaf on every single tree, and every single bird on every single branch. I looked above. There was a thick black blanket as far and as high as I could see. And it was not moving, it lurked, as if captured in a picture frame. We had been ostracized by civilization, lest, the plague should bare it's fangs. The last standing human victims carrried the scars all over their body, soul and spirit. Dusty, torn attires; black, greasy faces, and eyes begging for mercy. They moved around languidly with half open eyelids. What's that which was competing for their consciousness? Just sleep, or death? No one dared to talk, or cared to. The silence was very uneasy. An odd sonic disturbance was like a pebble thrown in stagnant water. It reverberated slowly, for long. After eons of domination, finally, mankind has surrendered to submissiveness.

Hail the supreme power!!