A Sea-Horse in the Sky

I am not drunk. Not on an emotional or alcohol excess, nor on any other kind of substance abuse. But I am high. Certainly. Happiness, perhaps. Inverted nervousness, probably -- the progress of my thesis is in shambles. Humidity and future plans are on either ends of a fine balance, constantly altering their plane. The contest between 'what-I-wish-my-life-is' and 'what-life-wishes-me-to-be' weighs unevenly at chance and opportunities. I wish I were blindfolded instead. But like most things I wish, I took to the terrace. It has been a rather calming breeze, as announced by the curtains.

Inside five minutes of attempts at exercising, I began visualizing my dream house. I sat down. The floor was hot. Now, unpredictably, I lay down, completely, hair open and slippers too. The moon shone softly, misted slightly by the choicest of clouds. It was a bright dusk, almost electric, with patches of load-shedding in the shape of Canada, or Australia. And then there were the special effects -- the glitters called stars. I counted four. And thought of Darjeeling, where the four could easily be forty. 

A flight's light was flickering and I tried to understand if it was taking the heights or descending. I wondered when next I would be sitting inside another flight. August? October? December? Would I be beading city lights into anklets? I followed the flight's direction till I could see it no more. The breeze was so lilting that I looked the other way, hoping for the flight to emerge. What I chanced upon instead, was nothing short of a surprise. I began counting -- five, six, seven ... twelve, thirteen...and wait, what was that?

A wafting line of three little stars swimming towards another. When I say wafting line, I obviously mean the line is non-linear, but together. They were swimming, oh I already said that. Now they were gliding. I was on my left side, reclined now, commanding all my attention. Long ago, as found in comics, illustrations of the wildlife revived. Yes! Jackpot! 

It was a sea-horse, in the sky, wandering. Or who knows, trying to reach dark Canada, or darker Australia? I longed to sleep on the terrace tonight, to remain in the trance of the sea-horse. May be, it would be dawn before it could catch a glimpse of moonshine amidst the grazing stardust. 

I am high. Sea-horses in the sky are rare. And precious. And any treasure is not worthwhile unless shared. Take the stairs, go out. Look up. You may chance upon it too. Even now, as I put an effort into studying, the words took the shape of the sea-horse, swimming, gliding, lilting...