A Bit Too Late

I move through the plain fields, the grass glowing beneath my feet in the sparkling moonlight. Hem of my dress occasionally hinder my progress, restricting my movement. My eyes are fretful, searching for the pleasure. I am starved, lonely and desperate. My lips are parched and my eyes are sunken. I do not even resemble the shadow of the woman you had once desired. Every step I take is an effort in a direction I am not sure of. My footsteps echo in my head, piercing the soothing silence. I gaze at the moon which is playing hide and seek with the clouds. It blesses me with light and a cool caress on my wasted skin. The soft cotton clouds are a shapeless veil, fluttering innocently with the wind. They stroke the moon’s face in an undistinguishable emotion.

I stop at the edge of the creek, my breath coming in shallow bursts. The wind is now cold on the droplets of sweat on my arms. I feel my knees buckle as I drop on the bank. My dress is soiled. And so are my hands. I feel my hair create a curtain around my face and I bow it in defeat. I raise my eyes for the last time, using the last ounce of energy I have. And that is when I see you. Far away almost at the horizon, I see you ride towards me. My mind tells me that it is an illusion but my heart refuses to believe. I feel my lips stretch into a smile as I see your figure grow larger and larger in the moonlight. The beauty of the silver landscape is nothing compared to the relief I feel now.

My outstretched arm slowly descends and finally gives into gravity. My spine crumbles under effort and I roll into the damp grass. My eyes are the last of the senses to stop working as your silhouette keeps broadening every second. My prince is a bit too late.

Nothing matters...

Her eyes followed his feet as he circled the sacred fire and with every passing moment, her thought process slowed down. He stopped and allowed his bride take the lead as instructed by the priest. She had never seen him look so serious in his whole life while he concentrated upon the ceremonies but his eyes glittered with happiness. They completed the rounds and settled down for the rituals. He caught her eye and flashed her a grin which she unconsciously returned. His smile was always worth returning. The only reason why she was standing here all dressed up even as her heart cried and wailed. Her eyes were dry and her smile was genuine- watching her best friend getting married to the love of his life- someone for whom he had suffered so much, someone for whom he had longed since he was a teenager- was more painful than she expected it to be.



She was the one who had convinced her parents into giving him a chance to prove him- and he did! She was the one who decorated their nuptial bedroom and selected his outfit for the wedding. But in all this happiness, he had forgotten to look into her eyes see the tornado of feelings inside them. She had scheduled a meeting for his wedding day so as to present a believable excuse for missing the marriage. When he had heard of it, he gave her a long appraising look and said in a cold voice, “You- will miss my wedding? Very nice…”


She looked at him helplessly as he shrugged and continued with the newspaper. After a few moments of silence, he declared, “I don’t care how you manage; I want you here on 22nd December for sure.”


And here she was, unable to ignore him, watching the love of her life exchange vows with his love. Her mother came and stood beside her and whispered in her ear, “Are you alright?”


She glanced and her and did not reply. She sensed it and held her hand reassuringly as he tied the mangalsutra around her neck, binding them together for life.


“If he is happy, nothing else matters…” she thought years later as she played with his son.

fOOTPRINTS IN THE SAND

I walk on the beach, my feet leaving imprints in the wet sand. Waves lash against my soles, washing the sand from beneath them and then replacing it. I always enjoyed walking here feeling the waves hit me. Sometimes I am feeling too daring I wade in knee length water, testing my guts. The waves were strangely calm today, moving to and fro lazily instead of lashing with vigor. This was another reason why I love this place. The waves constantly matched my mood. When I am sad and troubled, they reflect my anxiety by being furious and threatening, as though my inner turmoil had materialized and dancing in front of me. When I am happy, they dance to my heartbeats, celebrating alongside. I can talk to the ocean forever, receiving silent replies and acknowledgement. This could be called as first symptoms of madness, talking to water, but I resist. The changing shades of the sea- deep blue, green and the strange mixture of red, violet and orange, I could never define, beckon me towards itself.


But the main reason why I fell in love with this particular stretch of coast is you. From all the famous sea shores I have seen in my career of navy, this small, ordinary one is the most special. The magical moments when you held my hand as we walked along the shore seem even more real when I come here. I agree that having you in my life, even though for a few months in my life was a pure stroke of luck. I never thought I would have ever progressed on from watching you discreetly sitting in the high school canteen. You sat at your favorite seat, just next to window, and I used to occupy the one near the door, exactly diagonal. You were quite popular, I later realized but never fell into the category of Casanovas, no matter how many girls tried to woo you. I can’t remember exactly how we became friends but I think it had something to do with a field trip. We had never exchanged spoken commitments but your gestures slowly graduated from being brotherly and friendly to romantic. I went along with everything you offered, without suspecting even once how all those things were my favorites. When we used to walk across this beach, I would keep staring at our interlocked hands, as you recited poems based on the ocean. Your right hand had a small vertical mark I was rather fond of. Your voice deep and rhythmic combined seamlessly with the sound of waves and could beat any kind of music. I used to make it a point to walk a few feet away from the waves then, because I did not like to see the waves wash off our footprints. You found this rather amusing and when you asked me why, my answer was, “Because if I ever lose you, I will come here and follow these footsteps and they will lead me to you.” You gladly distanced from the waves.

Many years have passed since that little conversation. We had parted ways after a year or so when high school ended. It did not hurt much because I think we both knew that we would meet again one day. I have been into many relationships since then, all of them intended to last forever. I don’t know where you are but a strange nostalgia overpowers me whenever I visit this city. I never bothered to go to my old home, or school. This small stretch of secluded beach held magnetic attractions for me. I try to find your footsteps, but fail. Maybe I wasn’t careful enough and the waves did wash them off… I raise my eyes from the sand and look up- to see you standing a few feet away from me, smiling. Spectacles look good on you. My lips form a fascinated smile as you move towards me and hold out your hand. I notice the same mark on your hand. I extend my hand to touch yours and my sudden suspicion of seeing hallucinations fade away. You pull me to your side and we start walking. You look puzzled as I wade into the water fearlessly. I take pity on you and answer, “I am not going to lose you now…” your smile widens.