But the Heart said...

They were brothers, twins actually. They were one, once; but then grew apart.

One was younger, but the other twin was….   old.

They both were special, very special when they were born. When they were really young; they looked same, behaved same, played together, laughed and cried together, woke up to same bird’s song, slept to same lullaby. They both loved stories. One used to read many fairytales and folklores to the other twin; they used to make up their own stories and play.

But then,one of them chose to be the elder one, he grew to become what society and people said to be “normal”.

But the younger one, he remained the special child, he was born as.

 He was very late to learn everything. He couldn’t speak for years, or walk properly. He crawled for a very long time. He used to cry or gesture to get his brother’s attention, but he couldn’t tell him that he wanted his brother’s time and care.

He was a special child, a sweet four year old boy with two big, beautiful, innocent eyes. His name was Heart.

But now he had started to get up and walk on his own, although he often stumbled here and there and fell, but he had most beautiful smile on his face with each next step.

Now he wanted to run and also to fly. He sometimes, tried to leap, to jump high.

But then his brother, the one who chose to be the older one, had to stop him. He had to tell him that it would hurt him and cause him pain. The older twin always asked him to sit so quietly that he almost never appears to anyone, not even to his brother. He didn't want the world to notice that his brother was a special child.

And for the older twin, life wasn’t easy. He had to pay a big price for being the normal one, for not being the special child he was meant to be. He was named Mind.

 He was given knowledge but was also cursed with it. A clock was tied on to his chest when he was separated from the heart. Mind didn’t have heartbeat but arms of that clock made deafening sounds every second. He had to race with the clock arms for his life. Time was never in his favor. Time for him passes so quickly that one minute he was 10 and next he had to be 17. He had to run with clock arms endlessly.

Mind and Heart were twins, they were one once; but then they grew apart.

One day, the younger twin, the Heart came to his brother, stumbling, holding two balloons in his hands, a yellow one of hope and a blue one of dream.

“Brother!”He said to him, “let’s play hide and seek. I will hide and you have to find me.”

The older brother was reading something, sitting on his chair and study desk, surrounded by many books. He said, “I am busy now. I will play with you after I finish this work.”

“Brother!” he asked, “what are you doing?”

Mind said, “I am doing my homework. I have to tell which one of these sentences is true and which are false.”

“Brother”, Heart spoke with curiosity, “what does true and false means?”

Mind was also a child then, he didn’t know how to define true and false and moreover how to find truth.

He said, “I don’t know. I will just tick some right and cross some; or maybe copy from others, that will be my true and false, my truth.”

Heart couldn’t understand, he asked again, “Brother, then where is my true and false, my truth?”

Mind had no answer, he felt insulted because he couldn’t answer his younger brother’s question. He ignored his question and moved on to heavier and thicker books to feed his ego.

“Brother! What is my truth?” Heart said.

“Let me read.” Mind said, “Maybe I will find your answer, your truth in it.”

He kept reading books after books, each one heavier than before, absurd and stranger to him. The stack of books on his table kept getting bigger and bigger.

“Brother”, Heart said again, “brother, have you find my truth?”

Mind was frustrated .He said without looking at Heart; his voice was deeper than before,

“Shush.. Don’t make noise; I have to prepare for tomorrow’s exam. I have to read the story and find the answers to the questions asked below.” He kept reading, searching and writing the answers to the questions; questions that, he had no interest in and answers that made no sense to him.

Heart thought that stories had all the answers to the questions, his brother was searching for. He also wanted an answer, just one answer to one question. So he asked his brother-

“Brother, do you have any book for me?”

Mind looked around, at the large pyramid of books he had build, but none of those were for the Heart.

“No, Heart, I think they don’t write books for you anymore.” Mind said.

This made Heart sad. He wanted to find answers to his questions, he remembered those days when his brother used to read to him, when they used to make up stories and play them, when they used to argue on who would become the good fairy and who will be the evil witch, when they pretended to be sailors on a treasure hunt. He remembered those days when his brother always had time for him.

Heart sat there silently, kept looking at his brother and his surroundings.

Story, that his brother was reading, bookmarks of red and fluorescent yellow, white empty paper and flow of blue ink on them and the smell, the smell of a new book; all these caught his eyes.

Then he looked at his balloons, the yellow one of hope and the blue one of dreams, his eyes filled with excitement and joy.

“Brother…” Heart spoke,

“Yes!” Mind said,

“Brother…” Heart said again,

“Do you even have something to say?” Mind was getting annoyed.

Heart, poor child, was trying to muster his strength and find the words in which he can say what he really wanted to say.

“Brother, I too, want to write.” Heart spoke in a low voice.

“What?” Mind asked, not because he couldn’t hear the Heart but because he couldn’t understand the Heart.

“I want to write, brother.”Heart replied.

“Why? Why do you want to write?”

“I too, have questions, so many; I want to find answers to. Brother, I will write to find answers to my own questions.”

Mind said nothing, just sighed; looking at the meaningless questions he was given.

“Brother, I want to write.”

Mind looked at the clock, it was running so fast. Then he looked at his brother, into his big innocent eyes, there was a spark, a light he had never seen before.

Mind gave a white sheet and a blue pen to his brother and then went back to his heavy books, because clock was still running faster for him than it was, for his brother. Light was getting dimmer, walls were rising, and space was shrinking around him. He didn’t notice but the nib of his own pen was broken and the black ink was dripping from it. Everything he wrote with that pen, was turning into black stains.

Heart was so happy, as happy as a four year old could be. A simple white sheet and a blue pen was his whole universe; and in that moment he had his whole universe in his hands.

Heart held the pen in his left hand, still holding his balloons of dream and hopes in his right hand tightly, he started writing.

He wanted to write how beautiful his balloons were, he wanted to write how precious his hopes and dreams were to him. He was sure that he would find his answers too, his truth.

But Heart was a special child, he didn’t know how to write; he drew some lines, not straight, curves, zigzag, he saw around, it wasn’t like others writings; he couldn’t match with anyone else.

 And how much patience a four year old can have? He got frustrated, he threw the pen, scrambled the paper, cried a little; but then looked at his balloons and remembered his question. He picked up the pen, straightens the paper and tried again.

He looked up to his brother, who looked a bit taller than before, maybe he grew taller or maybe the space shrunk; he was trying to wear a tie.

“Brother…”

“Huh...”

“Brother, I want to write.”

“Then write, I have given you all you need to write.”

“Brother…”

“WHAT??” Mind yelled at Heart.

Heart got scared, he spoke stuttering-

“Brother, I can’t write without you. I don’t know how to write. Brother, please teach me how to write.”

Mind sighed again, he looked at the clock and said, “I have to go, I am late for interview. Can’t you wait for me here silently? I will teach you, once when I’ll be back. But remember, say no word till then, this world is a scary place and without me, you are not safe.”

Mind left Heart alone. It was getting darker and darker; space was shrinking more than before. Heart sat there silently. His brother had told him not to speak but he really wanted to speak, to tell his story about his balloons. But he sat there quietly in shadows and shadows kept growing bigger and darker.

Then, what seemed to heart a very long time, Mind came back. The space around had shrunk to be a cubicle. Mind sat on the same chair and started doing his work at once, ignoring his brother totally.

“Brother..”

“Brother!”

“I have work to do, projects to finish. Don’t bother me now.”

“But brother, you promised.” Heart said, holding his tears back, “Brother… I want to... Write.”

 “Shush.. I have house to build, family to feed, bills to pay. I don’t have time for you. let me work.” Mind whose face had wrinkles and hair was turning grey now, said to his brother. Clock around his neck was faster and heavier than ever.

“Brother!” Heart couldn’t hold back his tears anymore, he started crying.

“Brother… I … I really want to write. Please, I want to find my answers, please tell me how to write?”

Mind saw people around him was turning their heads, asking, who was making that noise?

He saw his peers running fast, asking him to keep up with them.

He saw people judging him because his brother, Heart was a special one.

He saw society asking him to silent the Heart because there is no place for a crying heart in this world.

And He even saw some people giving him cruel hints to bury his brother in a deep grave so that he can live in peace and silence.

But then he saw his brother’s face. He was just an innocent four year old, with big eyes with many dreams, some of which had already dried off in the corner of eyes and some were about to fall with tears from those sweet eyes.

But then he couldn’t face him anymore. He buried his face in large files and keyboards and started working again. He couldn’t see those files clearly, shadows were swallowing him and his eyes were teary.

“Brother..” Heart said again.

“Brother..” Mind didn’t reply.

“Brother..” Heart started sobbing, “Brother…. Br…brother….”

Heart wanted to hug his brother but he couldn’t reach to him, he spoke while struggling to catch a breath, his voice was filled with hiccups.

“Brother… I want…, brother …. Please…. I want to write.”

“Brother, why are… you not…. Listening to me?”

“Brother… brother… look at me please. Teach me please..”

“I want to … want to… write.”

People were staring at them, laughing at them and some were yelling at them. They asked him to stop making noise.

Mind saw, the pen he was doing work with, had its nib broken. Black ink was dripping from it. He was soaked in that black ink. He saw that all the cubicles and people around him were slowly sinking into the ocean of black ink without even realizing it.

Mind reached out and held his brother’s small hands; he looked into his brother’s eyes filled with tears with tears in his own eyes. He wanted to say something but he forgot how to speak, he felt how difficult it was for his brother, for the Heart to speak.

But it was too late, his shadow drenched with the black ink came alive and took a shape; a shape that was very familiar to Mind. Mind had been running away from it all his life. The shadow was ‘Fear’.

Shadow looked into their eyes, piercing their souls. It said to Mind,

“You!! Who do you think you are? Who gave you permission to listen to the Heart? Do I have to remind you of your limits, your boundaries?

You want to follow the Heart, did you not hear what others told you? did you not know yourself that you are not good enough, that you will never be good enough. You just want to see yourself fall and in pain. You are digging your own grave.”

Mind was trembling, he stuttered but he spoke, “My brother wants to write and he will write. He will write about the pain you have caused us, the wounds and scars you have given us. He will write, he will write about his hopes, his dreams, his fears.He will write and you can’t stop him now. I will not let you stop him now.”

Shadow laughed, “ and you think people will read it?” it said, “ and they will tell you that you are good, good enough to dream, to hope, to breathe. And tell me will your dream feed you? will your hope cover your ugly bodies? will your writing save you? Tell me; tell me how you are going to survive.”

“I don’t know”, Mind said looking into Heart’s eyes, “ I don’t know whether anyone read us, understand us, whether we will survive or not. But I know for sure, that writing will heal us. Writing will tell us, if not the answers than, at least, the questions I need to ask. Our hopes, our dreams will give us at least a chance and a reason to smile, to feel alive because that’s all I have, because that’s all we have.”

Shadow roared, it said, “Enough, enough of your hopes and dreams. I will get rid of them for you.”

Shadow snatched away the balloons from Heart’s hand and threw them away.

Heart saw his balloons of precious dream and hopes disappearing into the sky, he screamed-

“Brother…” he said in a voice that told that he couldn’t bear anymore pain,

“Brother, please, I will die, I wanted to write.”

Mind couldn’t see his brother in so much pain. He knew Heart can’t live without hope. So he ran after the hopes and dreams as fast as he could. It was dark; he couldn’t see anything but he ran. He stumbled, he fell, his knees were bruised, his palms were bleeding but he stood up again, he ran again. But then, he ran out of breath. He couldn’t catch his hopes, his dreams.

Mind broke down into tears. What was there left to live for? He asked himself. Why did I never hear my heart before, why did I leave him alone? I thought I would be happy someday, but I couldn’t, ever. I wish I had listened him earlier. Mind was hopeless and heartbroken.

Heart reached out to him, he wiped his tears, held his bruised face in his small hands and said,

“Don’t cry brother, you tried your best, don’t cry. I still remember how they looked and how I felt when I had those. I want to write about that. And I know, we will find many more hopes and dreams, better than those, bigger and more colorful than those. I know.

But brother, hold my hands and promise me, you will not leave me alone ever. Promise me you will never pretend that you can’t hear me. Promise me, brother.

I know, it’s dark and scary here and I know it is scary for you too.

And I know that I still can’t walk properly or speak and I still have a lot to learn.

But my brother I will learn, no matter what, I will learn. I will not give up. because my brother, I really want to write. I really want to tell my story and I really want to find my answers, my true and false.

So my brother, please tell me, teach me how do I draw the very first line. Tell me how I fill my words with my pain. Teach me how to shape my hopes and dreams into them. And brother, teach me how do I put my soul, my truth in it, because I want to write.”

Mind picked the scrambled piece of paper and the blue pen. He held Heart’s small hand with pen and taught him to draw a straight line. Dark shadow was fading slowly, cubicles had melted away and it was a beautiful garden, filled with flowers of love and hopes. Heart was happy and so was Mind. They were still wounded, but they were healing and they had most beautiful smile on their faces. Shadows were still lurking there, but Mind had returned from its long hiatus, and had accepted Heart as it was. They were twins, who grew apart once but then reunited.