I am a writer in my own right; I write notes about every figment of emotion that excites my ego. I observe random nooks and crannies of people, behaviour and society at large; I form my own views about them much to a critic’s delight. I build my own reserve of clichés that I identify in untouched cues of human behaviour and I am steadfast to avoid them in the way I do things. I gauge tomorrow’s outcome in today’s light, probably that’s why am limited to rational set of thinking. I weave silent soliloquies with Almighty and that’s how I indoctrinate my own private spiritual being. I was a kid that walked the bylanes of the old-fashioned Mohalla, and I am the adult who mapped the urban streets of London. I am a boy next-door who sleeps in a middleclass neighbourhood and the one who wakes up to a niche candyfloss society. I am a seasoned mind that propounds old-age philosophies and I am a youthful body that disguise itself in contemporary fashion.
I mince words that mean a thousand emotions to myself and I hit backspace to save others of my literal confusion. I am a grown man of 26 years, who happens to be the youngest of siblings, yet expected to deliver machismo like sensibility underneath that pampered upbringing. I am a man sunken deep down the darkest depths of love and I claim to know every speckle that the grain of hate offers. I am a living legend surrounded with impossible constraints, yet I dwell in the subconscious immaturity of a fool’s paradise. I dig with fingers towards the interiors of my flesh, only to find my own troubled blood clotted almost vain in veins.
I am a thought that germinates in a fraction of a second and I am an idea that takes ages to die. I am memorabilia of unvoiced mannerisms and I am an emancipation of your habitual negligence. I design landscapes of inimitable finesse and I paint them with my own emotional baggage. I am a drop of sweat of a humble fatigue and I am that warm gush of breath heaved in unabashed vanity.
I am everything that I can write for a humble escape… I am a perpetual exaggeration of my vocabulary’s content. I am Aarif Khilji, the man of words, engrained with emotions… empowered by observation… And until the next sentence clicks…
