The Dead Ocean

Upon the shore of a dead ocean, he sits and stares at his own reflection, realizing how much this still water has blackened. How it doesn’t ripple even when a stone’s been thrown on it.
Does it mortify mankind?

Of course. Ponders he sometimes, what made this water dead? Maybe it is too rigid or in a wrong state, maybe, its too jealous of the flow or too insecure of those missing currents.

He feels sad for the dead ocean, as the ocean itself loathes its inertness. He sternly believes that this deadness once had raging liveliness. But now, it just feels life around in someone’s laughter, cry & unquenchable thirst but it doesn’t emote a bit.

He knows this suffocating deadness in the air. Does this stubborn ocean want him to run away? Or can his presence be a solace to it?  But how does it matter to him? Wonders he.
The reality is waiting for him to come back and get drenched in the sweet-bitterness of life. But now he wants to sit on the shore with the oceans inevitable grief. He smiles at the lifeless ocean and gives it a drop of his own existence and got drenched with its inexplicable existence.

-Arvind Chatterjee