The book awaits...

The book was co- written by two authors, both of whom wanted to script it according to their own choices. The book of course had no say in the script. It was but just a recipient. As the pages got added, many words got added by the authors. When the book was finally published, it was a very confusing book. However, the words imprinted were those for an ideal world. Nothing about the realities of the world was there. The cover of the book reflected the interior very clearly. Very simplistic, nothing fancy. There were few pages left blank however. And then the book hit the world. Due to the unattractive cover, there were few takers, and most of those who read, just mocked the book for its idealistic contents. As time passed, the book got picked by people and the blank pages kept getting filled by experiences from the readers’ lives. Every reader had some pain to share. And then something strange happened, some of the blank pages started filling themselves up with the book’s own thoughts. As time passed, readers kept picking up the book, only when they were alone and without anything else to do, went through a few pages and threw the book away the moment they found something more interesting to do or when they were done adding their experiences and felt lighter, never bothering to go through the entire book to know its experiences, pains and angst. The book bled and tears rushed out every time this happened. And over time, pages which held the true feelings of the book inscribed on them, got stuck to each other. And with time, the cover became more and more rugged by scratches from readers. But inside, the stuck pages got so stuck to each other that the book itself forgot what is in there. Blank pages still are getting filled up by the readers’ experiences. And every reader sees the stuck pages, but no one really bothers to open the pages. Not even the purchaser. And the book waits. Awaiting the reader who will take time to unstuck the pages carefully and patiently enough to not tear the pages. Or a strong rain that will wash away the blood and the tears and in the process open up the pages. The book awaits.. time is passing by.. and the pages have started to crack at the edges... and most interestingly, the book has started running out of pages. Readers’ experiences are not getting inscribed anymore, just becoming volatile ink marks..