If time machine is the only wagon that can take us to the Middle Age or the Old Stone Age in a quest to explore the various civilizations, I beg to differ. A quiet place and a calm mind can take us down the memory lane in a flash. I tend to travel back and forth, revving my SILENCEdes, letting in my past memories sedate my present.
As images unfolded in tranquility, I was sucked in by the gravity of the situation. About a year ago, near the fag end of Spring 2005, I saw her on my way to the workstation. Though I always felt an air of swagger around her, perched on top of her wooden castle, my heart would start pounding, palm bleeding with sweat, rippling tsunami in the gut. Days flew into months, me playing a waiting game for her first move.
One fine morning I decided to let go of my feelings for her and move on with life. But by quirk of fate, I was hit by her dewy tears. Sensing a glimmer of hope for my unrequited love, I stood there under her shadows just in case if she needs to lean on. After few hesitations, she opened her heart out revealing how her sibling succumbed to nature’s fury, her static life in the branched ivory tower and so on. As she was pouring out, I realized that all her flamboyance and pride were just a façade to veil her trials and tribulations.
What started out as a crush grew into a very serious relationship, she sloughing off her regular green jersey and donning a red one to impress me, minor quibbles between us and what not. All seem to go well for us until one fine day her parents revealed to me that she is counting her days and that they will be all gone before the winter sets in. She made no effort to conceal her impending grave and our eyes were locked in tears. Head down with a heavy heart, I started to walk writhing in pain.
Next day, as soon as she saw me, she broke loose from her wooden castle and descended down only to be swept away by the wind. I had to sprint like hell to retrieve her. Holding her in her final moments, with a quivering voice and a failing heart, she whispered that she would be back next spring and left me weeping. Until I see her again, may her soul rest in peace in the casket of my organic chemistry book. Amen.
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7 comments:
Rejoice, spring is here. She might already be here, peeping from her reacclaimed home, eager to show off her pristine drapes, waiting for her beau to admire her bloom.
Monet once said "The richness I achieve comes from Nature, the source of my inspiration".
This quote was written for you.
Secret aficionada
Hey S.A
Spring may be here but her resurrection comes with an amnesia of her last birth. So I guess I have to do all the monkey dancing, that Kamal Hasan did to Sridevi in the flick "Munram Pirai", to revive her memory.
I revere Mother Nature and look up to her for inspiration, but richness.. in my work. , Monet was kidding about me. Dont trust him.
Man.. atleast from ur past experiences, u should have realised that the result was inveitable :p :p :p
D.M.
Dey swishing natural gas to the fire. Anyway I believe in the law of averages
Nice! All ur deceit did lead me to guess it shud be a bird or a twig, turns out it was a leaf! Sorry da, familiarity does have it's cost, I guess!
Sandeep
Theivame, deceit in my writing. I didnt realize until you told me. I have heard that great minds work in infinite dimensions, now I see one.
Danke
Though separated for a long time, glad I have seen her
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