Obnoxious Twilight Tempest Thy Heart

Romeo Romeo- wherefore art thou, Romeo?

There is this point of convergence in life that makes almost every human go through an existential crisis. This is when somebody starts to question the nature of reality that they exist in. Mostly, these moments, as statistics show, are felt at desperate times. In that sense, Christmas came a little too early for me.

Hozier, a can of Heineken, an empty roof, starry night, and a rolling chair. At midnight, a shooting star passed by, and life seemed complete. On the other side of my tiny smartphone screen, a pretty girl was texting back and forth, and precisely at that moment, for a second, my reality crumbled. An irresistible Question popped up in my mind- Wherefore art thou Peace? A mirage, are you now?

Through that crack, I could see those coffin-like artificial wombs hosting millions of humans connected to large-scale contraptions. Contraptions that connected everybody to the virtual world of 1998 and somebody just gave me the red pill.

In that haze of darkness, all I could see as a way out was to jump headfirst from the roof. And suddenly a voice whispered in my ear "omae wa mou shindeiru," you are already dead.

_{Not much, but you can see a little Crown Shyness right there in that tree.}

My daymare of nihilistic delusion ended when a soft golden graze of dying sunlight woke me up. It was half-past three in the afternoon, and I was dreaming hard. The first thing I always do after waking up and having a large meal is smoke. I know its injurious to health and all that, but these little addictions are those tine flicker of hope that makes life easier. And to shake off the slimy ticklish aftertaste that bad dream left, it took two clouds of smoke.

While forcefully trying to feel warm and fuzzy inside with all that shenanigans, I completely forgot about picking up my seven-year-old niece. Every Thursday, her parents send her here to her grandmas for the weekend. But that day I completely forgot.

So, I got ready as fast as I could, all masked and protected from Corona, and within fifteen minutes, I was at my sister's. From afar, I could see my niece, Mumu, looking down at the street from her fourth-floor balcony, with her sobby eyes. Usually, one giant candy would do the trick, getting her all happy again after becoming all frowny. But being two hours late, it took two. One for each hour.

Walking down the desolate streets of this aristocratic urban residential while holding her soft little hands, all I could think about was how my sister took me along to walk with her when I was little, like Mumu. She would stand at the gate and scream out my name with open arms, and I would run towards her with my tiny feet, and at the very last moment, just before I fell, I would take flight. She would always grab me, swing in the air for a bit and then take into her lap while saying, she'll always be there. And this godforsaken me couldn't even return a little of that. Time got to her before all of us.

My little niece was all quiet while happily suckling the candy bar, and then out of nowhere, she asked, Choto Mama, where do people go after they die?

Choto Mama, Bengali collective noun for mum's youngest brother. Another word for Uncle

_{Right there, those are unedited photos of stars you see. My cheap smartphone did manage to capture night stars.}

This is that time when, whatever you tell a kid, they will believe in it for the rest of their lives. So I carefully tried to avoid the concept of death and said, "They become stars, Luv."

Then which one is Khukumoni?

Khukumoni, Bengali collective noun for mum's sister, another word for auntie.

Dusk was drawing nearer, and the evening star was visible. As a symbolic gesture, like everybody does, I pointed at that and said, "That's khukumoni; if you ever lose your way towards home, just look at the star. It'll show you the way."

And she replied, "but Dada said that's Venus. Venus is not a star, it's a planet!"

My 24-year-old brain malfunctioned like R2D2 and took a second to start thinking straight. But still, I could come up with nothing.

This is how my dark descend towards a existential crisis begun.

As all the humans have derived upon the fact that there can be two possibilities, two scenarios after-death painted by lore, religion and popular philosophy. The first being there is heaven and hell. But, I am a sinner. And most probably at the very top of the list of damnation. So, no heaven for me. Two, there's is nothing after death. Only an eternal sea of vacuum, darkness, and void. Either way, I'm fucked.

But, then, where is my sister now? A question too hard to live with. A philosophy I never wanted. And a dystopia I never want to live in. I know at the very core, this might be immature of me not letting go of something that I cant hold on to. But, this brought me back to the initial question of mine- Wherefore art thou peace?!