Prashant's Solace

(Dawn of a cold morning. On a relatively isolated mountain top, they are silent. A word-war ensues.) SHE: You are an apostate. ME: Who, me? Huh... For that I have to belong. SHE: That's a given. ME: To you maybe. SHE:  Kid yourself, fine. But mine is the true language of the definitions of belonging, as we have known. So I can't be wrong. You are a deserter. ME: In that case I am not exactly happy. SHE: Then come back to senses. Back to a definition. Back to a solace of belonging. ME: Tribalism isn't for me. I stretch myself beyond ephemeral human realms. SHE: How? ME: You see the sun rising over the vast civilizational invention below us. It is 0600 hours. In about an hour the sunrise would unleash multitudes who would go around pretending to be from somewhere to deal with somewhere.     (Aurangabad- Courtesy Feroz Khan - LT)                          SHE: Just like we do. Point being...? ME: I don't pretend to be f