Plastic

And it looked beautiful. It looked tender and it looked even prettier because of its vulnerability. It was almost close to perfection. With its bright attractive color, it looked pleasant to the eyes and its softness made it soothing to the soul and appealing to the heart. And it could sculpt itself as per the need of the hour and that is what made it even more appealing. And they fell in love with it for it was beautiful indeed. With purity only analogous to the drop of dew on the lotus leaf, innocence only comparable to the giggle of a child with bright twinkling eyes and grace akin to divine from heaven, it was undeniably a synonym of precision, a heart stirring stanza straight from the most beautiful poem of a romantic poet.

But it was plastic. It was beautiful but yet it was plastic, with no feelings, no strings in the heart to stir; like some mechanical device programmed to fool you into getting used to it and then one fine day ditch you when you start relying on it completely and feel yourself attached to it mentally and emotionally. It was indeed plastic from head to toe with plastic feelings, and a plastic smile and a plastic heart.

And it suddenly appeared devoid of the emotions. And this lack of emotions felt choking and suffocating. Too much of plastic in this world. And he gasped for air but plastic seemed to have engulfed him and he felt swamped and fought to feel some fresh air in his lungs but in vain.

He battled to open his eyes, could open it a little, may be half and then his eyes started closing as he moved into limbo..